


find where love hides

by kindaopps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hanamachi AU, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Military, Prostitution, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaopps/pseuds/kindaopps
Summary: "Then this is who I am," Viktor murmured, swaying a little closer and tilting Katsuki's face up, eyes fixed on his swirling pair. "I am a person who wants what he wants... and gets what he wants. What is the point in denying pleasure?" He whispered, running his thumb across Katsuki's cheek. "Because it is condemned to be immoral? Because it must be wrong? Because it is impure? Am I dirty for wanting such things: the heat of your body and the taste of your mouth?" Viktor let a soft breath ghost over Katsuki's cheek and felt him shudder. "Then so be it."(also known as: the meiji period au where love is merely a sold commodity, a farce, an overplayed game, but a game yuuri never expected to win and viktor never expected to lose)





	1. wash this perishing world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, when the streets are bright and washed by the rain, when the air is still sweet and untainted, people from a certain teahouse will walk through the town. A spectacle for the common people, to be looked at, awed, appreciated, envied, scoffed at. A man, exotic like a rare breed of flower, will walk with them, glamorous, untouchable, smiling. Shielding half of his face with a wide umbrella, waiting to be seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this is just the prologue to the fic. sort of like a teaser wewew
> 
> enjoy!

Viktor watches the rain fall, lashing at windows and roaring over the whistling of heavy wind. It blurs out the branches of the trees, the tiny unknown figures below dashing into shelter, the stout, brown-tiled buildings, the red lanterns lining the streets. The rain transformed the street into a new world, arguably, a more beautiful one. Viktor's window is wide open, rain splattering his face and the uncovered skin of his hands. He inhales. The scent is clean, fresh, a little sweet. The camellia flowers he is keeping waver like red flags in the wind. 

"Viktor."

Viktor turns. The candle light throws shadows upon his face, dancing like little devils, a sliver across his eyes illuminated by the orange, flickering light. His muted red, decorated garments are heavy on his body, but the weight is too familiar now to be uncomfortable. He hitches a smile on his face, and drifts over to the man, keeping his walk gliding and elegant.

"My Lord," he murmurs, and rests a hand on a muscled arm, pressing his body against his side, keeping his smile from wavering as a heavy hand lands on his waist, branding him. He looks up into murky dark-brown, hungry eyes. _How dirty_ , he thinks to himself, _like mud and dirt and grime_. He smiles coyly. "Won't you come make me warm?"

He leads the man further into the darkened room and blows out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. He lays himself down onto the futon. The man mouths over his collarbones with little finesse, his body weight pressing Viktor down and making it hard to breathe. Viktor keeps his eyes on his window, where the rain is still falling in sheets. He wants to step outside. Wants to close his eyes and let the rain fall over him, seep into him, into his skin, blur him out, erase his face, his body, at least for a moment. He closes his eyes. Listens to the rain patter like a silent melody only he can hear.

\---------

A long walk away, in a more respectable part of town, Katsuki Yuuri is panting, his hands red and raw from where he was gripping his _katana_ , the rain dripping into his eyes. His garments are soaked to the skin, and he leans his head against the straw dummy where he had been hacking away, before the rain started, and hadn't stopped. He tilts his head up, against the gaping maw of the white-grey sky. _I am a monster_. The _katana_ drops to the wet ground in a soft splash, and Yuuri's knees follow them, crumpling into group and hunching. He stares at his reddened hands. The rain hides their edges, masks their callused redness, and Yuuri shudders.

"Yuuri."

Yuuri looks up, into his childhood friend's face. She is holding up an umbrella over him, her face concerned.

"What are you doing out here? You'll be sick. Come in and change your clothes."

Yuuri stands. He doesn't reply, but simply follows her in. He casts a last look at the sky.

"The rain will stop, won't it?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Nothing." 

The sliding door closes with a quiet thud.

Tomorrow, when the streets are bright and washed by the rain, when the air is still sweet and untainted, people from a certain teahouse will walk through the town. A spectacle for the common people, to be looked at, awed, appreciated, envied, scoffed at. A man, exotic like a rare breed of flower, will walk with them, glamorous, untouchable, smiling. Shielding half of his face with a wide umbrella, waiting to be seen.

\---------

_for everyone poked so full_

_of holes, their own voice passes_

_through them, history escaping_

_the body in a series of echoes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this](http://kuso-taisa.tumblr.com/post/165957925120) gorgeous art work by kuso-taisa. the artist has given me permission to write this on her behest! 
> 
> fic title from the film kill your darlings: 
> 
> be careful. you are not in wonderland.  
> i have heard the strange madness  
> long growing in your soul.  
> but you are fortunate.  
> in your ignorance, in your isolation,  
> you who have suffered  
> find where love hides.  
> give, share, lose - lest we die, unbloomed. 
> 
> chapter title from matsuo basho's haiku: 
> 
> With dewdrops dripping,  
> I wish somehow I could wash  
> this perishing world
> 
> ending quote from singaporean poet tania de rozario an eulogy (yes i am singaporean! come say hi if u r too wew) read [here](http://taniaderozario.com/words/detail/a-eulogy) if you are interested 
> 
> i am aware of another similar fic, but this one is different: it's set in a different time period (Meiji), roles are reversed, and i'm planning a different plot, of course! 
> 
> i'll be posting the first chapter in a couple of days, so keep a look out on that, if you like :)


	2. e'er since pursue me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is! 
> 
> title from shakespeare's twelfth night: "and my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,/ e'er since pursue me."

"Yuuri. Yuuri. Yuuri!" 

Yuuri turned his eyes to Nishigori, still lost in thought. He blinked rapidly.

"I've been calling you for ages," his friend huffed. "Pay attention." 

"Sorry," Yuuri replied easily. "What is it?"

"Look!"

They were walking in Shimabara[1], patrolling the streets, and they had walked past a vibrant group that seemed almost from a separate, fantastical world. They were bright and eye-catching and outstanding against the drabness of the common people's clothing. There were chattering young women, their shawls tight around their head and dressed gorgeously in bright colours and patterns of summer, their movements delicate and graceful. Yuuri distractedly ran his eyes over each of them, barely interested, but as he turned his head away to move forward, the glint of bright hair caught his eye.

There was the most beautiful person he'd seen in his entire life, half-hidden by the black umbrella he - or she - was carrying. They[2] looked like a fairy prince (princess?), with long, striking limbs that their heavy garments merely accentuated. Entirely ethereal, unworldly; Yuuri thought if he blinked, this person's visage would have disappeared. Yuuri sucked in a deep breath. The person seemed to be daydreaming, millions of miles away yet absent-mindedly taking note of their surroundings with mild, detached interest. They turned their head, towards one of their companions, their face disappearing under the wide brim of the umbrella. Yuuri swallowed hard. They had turned back, their mouth now tilted in a maddening, suave quirk. Yuuri's staring had caught the person's eye, who smiled at him, inclining their head to the side as if in greeting. Their long silver hair, hanging loose down to their waist, swished to the side. They had blue, blue eyes, Yuuri realised with a jolt, like the skies of better days. And, in that moment, entirely held in the cusp of time, Yuuri belatedly realised that they were going to say something to him. But Yuuri turned his face resolutely away, even if he could feel his face burning red. His heart was thumping uncomfortably in his chest.

"Viktor!"

The person turned away - that sounded like a man's name, so he was a man, then - and Yuuri breathed easier, but couldn't stop himself from looking at the person as he walked away, his steps graceful. _He is a man_ , Yuuri told himself bitterly, tearing his eyes away, ashamed, angry at himself. _You don't like men_.

"I said, Yuuri! You're so distracted today," Nishigori said exasperatedly, and Yuuri gave him friend a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry."

"They must be from one of the teahouses," Nishigori said, starting to walk again, continuing his conversation as if he hadn't stopped himself to draw Yuuri's attention back.

"Mmm."

"That one with the silver-hair was really pretty, hmm?" Nishigori said thoughtfully, looking at Yuuri with contemplative eyes. "Did you hear his name...I think it was...Viktor?"

Yuuri kept his face smooth, despite the panic that had spiked in him. "If I tell Yuu-chan you've staring at other women again, you'll get it from her," he smiled lightly, patting Nishigori's back. Nishigori's eyes widened, and then narrowed.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Hmm."

Yuuri didn't look back as they continued onto different ways.

But the stranger was so beautiful he stood out, like a bright, elusive mirage in Yuuri's mind for the days long after he had seen him. Yuuri thought about him, fantasized about his voice, wondered what he could have said to Yuuri. Wanted to see his smile directed at him and wanted to know how his hair would have felt like wrapped around Yuuri's fingers. Wanted to see his eyes up close. Wanted to know him. These thoughts vexed and frustrated him, but trying not to think about it only made him think about him more. He grew to hate himself more in those following days. He felt like a deer to be hunted, to be pursued and ripped into these pieces by these terrible, hound-like, unnatural desires[3].  

"Reading Shakespeare[4] again, Yuuri?"

Yuuri looked up from the papers in his hands, and he gave Yuuko a tight smile. "Just a bit."

She peered at his papers. "Twelfth Night, huh. A comedy, isn't it?"

Yuuri shrugged. "I wonder," he murmured, "the line between comedy and tragedy is very thin, isn't it?" He smiled at Yuuko, who blinked confusedly at him. "Would you mind getting some tea for me, Yuu-chan?"

"Right," she hummed, giving him another sweet smile as she retreated from Yuuri's study. Yuuri watched her go, and wondered if it was easier if he had just fallen in love with her.

\---------

They said Shimabara was a place you could never leave, once you entered, forever cursed to be dreaming of night-time extravagance it offered. They said, in scandalized whispers, in the teahouse _Tsubaki_ , tucked away at the back of the alleyway but more prosperous than any at the main street, had every exotic beauty - including exotic men - you can lay your eyes upon in Japan. They murmured that your wildest dreams could be fulfilled there. They whispered, even more lowly, of the sinful debauchery and - god forbid! - sodomy[5] that went on within the walls of that teahouse. They murmured that on the highest floor of _Tsubaki_ , in the biggest room, housed the most beautiful person in Kyoto. They muttered that only the richest bidders would get this person, whisked away into a night of pleasure that you would be condemned to remember for the rest of your life.

This pleasure at times was entirely one-sided, of course.

Viktor smiled blandly as the middle-aged man patted his bottom in the most patronizing way. "Please be careful on your way back," Viktor said graciously, tilting his head down as a sign of grace and submission.

"I'll see you soon, then," he winked salaciously, but it only made him even less attractive. Viktor simply smiled back with practised ease.

"Please escort the Lord out," he told one of the waiting maids, who nodded and politely followed the man out. Viktor waited until he disappeared out of sight before turning to his personal bodyguard who was stationed at his door.

"Don't let him in again," Viktor instructed Otabek, who nodded wordlessly. "Terrible! Ploughing into me like some animal and didn't even bother asking if it _hurt_. My hips!"

Otabek just looked at him expressionlessly, as Viktor finished ranting about men and their overinflated ego and masculinity and rank and then turned back into his room in a flourish of robes.

He was busy grumbling into his pillow, face down in the silk, resting on his front, when Lilia came by.

"You're not allowed to reject him, Vitya."

"I don't care," Viktor said petulantly, barely lifting his chin to look at Lilia. "He is horrible to sleep with and his breath smells."

"You can't always enjoy your job."

"My _job_ is all about enjoyment and pleasure," Viktor huffed, crossing his arms dramatically over his pillow and pressing his face back into it.

"He's a _Lord_ , Viktor." She was probably standing with her arms crossed over her chest, Viktor thought, and probably scowling. He was unimpressed.

"Not worth it," Viktor waved a hand. He sat up slowly, flicking his long silver hair behind his back. He smiled at Lilia, the way that usually got him what he wanted. "If I find another customer by the next week, buy me that kimono I wanted. The red one."

"You're a money plunderer, you. Give me a reason why I shouldn't just throw you out on the streets."

"Because I'm the one bringing the money rolling in," he said smugly and Lilia sighed again.

"I brought this upon myself," she murmured, as she glided away again.

\---------

Viktor was bored out of his mind. He smoked another pipe, lounging on the tatami mats as he waited for his next appointment. He watched as the smoke drifted, blurry and insubstantial, towards his windows. Maybe he should hang some teru-teru bozu upside down[6], he thought absent-mindedly, inhaling another deep breath of smoke. The bitter smoke filled his mouth and clung onto his clothes, but he liked it. It masked other scents.

The sliding doors slid open, and Viktor pulled himself up to an upright position, keeping his pipe tilted at an elegant angle. Smoke wafted up, obscuring his face for a brief moment, before clearing. Viktor gave himself a pat on the back for a dramatic entrance.

In came in a middle-aged man in his military uniform, followed by a younger man, who was resolutely keeping his head down, face already red.

"Good evening," Viktor said silkily, as they both sat themselves opposite Viktor.

The older man whistled, his sharp eyes tracing Viktor's figure, as Viktor smirked a little. The black kimono does really go with his hair, he thought, as he sat very still. He put down his pipe, and moved to take the tea pot into his hands, pouring his guests some sake.

"It is nice to finally meet you, General Shinobu. I've heard so much of your military prowess, it's all aflutter here to know that you were coming. I wanted to meet you." Viktor winked a little, and the general laughed boisterously.

"What a smooth tongue you have," he said admiringly.

"And who might your acquaintance there be?"

"This is Katsuki Yuuri-kun, the best and brightest in my unit," he told Viktor, almost like a proud parent, patting the younger's back heavily. The man seemed to hunch into himself further, and offered a soft greeting. 

"He seems very shy," Viktor observed aloud, "it is your first time, then."

Viktor was fixed with a fleeting glance, before the eyes dropped back down to the table again. He frowned. He doesn't like the fact that his table was more interesting than him, but he decided that it was because of the effect he had on people. Like how they can't stare at the sun for too long, can't get too close because they were afraid of getting burnt by its brilliance. That thought appeased him, and he turned his gaze back to the older man.

"Well then," Viktor smiled at the general, who threw his head back to swallow his drink. "Let us talk business."

"I already paid Mistress Baranovskaya," the general said, "but this is for Katsuki-kun." He laughed again, and patted the other man's back again. "Don't be so shy! You did save my daughter's life from those bandits and I did promise to reward you heavily."

"Yes, but-" Katsuki protested, and he darted a nervous look at Viktor, whispering lowly, furiously, like Viktor wasn't five feet away from them. "I'm not- I don't like _men_." Oh, really, Viktor thought, as he smiled widely at him when he darted another look at Viktor. The flush did really say otherwise.

"I've heard the rumours, Katsuki-kun, and I don't mind it at all. Just as long as you keep it out of our unit. We don't want what happened to happen again, yes?" He chuckled, but the other man seemed to stiffen a little, his shoulders tightening. Katsuki shot General Shinobu a betrayed look that the man missed as he turned to Viktor. "Now, I'll leave both of you two alone. Please enjoy yourselves. Ah, also, Katsuki-kun," he said, and then paused, "remember that you have the day off tomorrow." He winked, very much over-the-top, and Katsuki seemed to be holding back a barrage of words. He stood and left, after throwing another wink at Viktor.

There was a long, long silence in the room. Viktor sighed internally. And he had hopes that he would be entertained.

"Katuski-sama," he hummed, and suddenly the man blurted something aloud. He was still training his eyes resolutely on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said in a rush, "I didn't mean to - I just couldn't stop the general-"

"You're sorry for...being my customer?" What a strange man, Viktor thought, interest piqued now, observing the man more. He had dark, longish hair that hid the curve of his cheek, and when he looked up slightly to nervously look at Viktor, Viktor noticed that his wide eyes were a queer shade of violet-brown. He looked boyish, and was trying very hard to make himself look smaller in his uniform than he actually was. Unassuming, if a little plain. Viktor smiled inwardly. This was becoming amusing. He rarely had such inexperienced customers who didn't know what they wanted, since his price point was so steep.

The man chewed on his lip intently. "I can leave..." 

"Stay," Viktor said, bringing his pipe to his mouth again and he smiled at the man, who was blinking rapidly at him. "General Shinobu already paid, anyway." He stood, and sat himself down beside Katsuki, who backed away. "Why are you so scared?" He murmured, raising a hand to cup his face, which was burning under his hand. "I won't bite." He paused. "Unless you want me to."

"I saw you. Last week," he blurted, finally catching Viktor's eyes before they shifted away again. His body was tilted away, screaming that he needed the distance. Viktor ignored the signs as he shifted even closer.

"Last week?" Viktor cast his mind back, and then recalled the day the entire cast of _Tsubaki_ was allowed to roam the streets for two bright hours. "You remembered me, then," he said, pleased that he had made an impression. He leaned in closer. So close, he could smell the clean, musky scent of his patron. Subtly, curiously, Viktor breathed in another whiff. "How cute." Feeling the panic emanating from the man, Viktor moved away.  This man was almost laughably easy to tease. "Here," Viktor drawled, raising the teapot, "let's drink."

Katsuki bit his lip and looked at him from under his lashes. He hesitated. "I... just a bit then."

Numerous cups later, Katsuki was relaxed, smiling at Viktor widely, the top button of his uniform unbuttoned to reveal the smooth skin at the bottom of his neck. The flush had barely ebbed, but he was now braver, placing his hand on Viktor's thigh and raising the other hand to push his loose hair behind an ear. "Your hair is gorgeous," he told him, "looks like starlight, you know?"

Viktor chuckled lowly. He had heard many things about his hair before, but this man was more earnest than most. "Thank you," he said, coyly dipping his eyes down. He raised a hand and touched his own hair.

"It's really soft, too," he continued, and he started petting Viktor's head like one would a dog. "So pretty. _You_ ' _re_ pretty."

Viktor blinked up at him. Katsuki was smiling that serene smile, his eyes glazed over as he stared at a point on Viktor's hair. "You're...drunk," he observed.

"I'm fine," Yuuri slurred, and he stood up, pulling Viktor up with a hard yank. He blinked dazedly at Viktor, and then gave him a beatific smile. "Let's dance!"

"Wait-"

"Oh...there's a table."

He bent down and made to push it aside, but Viktor stopped him. "How about...we go inside?"

"No table there?" He asked, swaying a little and squinting at Viktor, like he is having a hard time concentrating. Viktor nodded, biting his lip. He shouldn't be amused, should be offended, in fact but he _was amused_ , extremely, with this ridiculous, drunk man looking at him like the most confused puppy. Well, it seemed like Viktor got his wish after all, since he was entertained in the most surprising of ways.

\--------- 

They half-tumbled into Viktor's darkened room, and Katsuki had sleepily nuzzled into Viktor's neck for a moment before he stood up again.

"Dance!"

He seemed to be trying to take control of his own limbs, like a many tentacled octopus, and Viktor watched him with glee.

"What are you doing?" Viktor giggled, as Katsuki started the small steps of a dance, and he fixed his glazed stare on Viktor, who had moved to lounge on the laid-out futon.

"Dancing," he explained slowly, "you try it too!"

"What sort of dancing is that?" He laughed, "I've never seen it before!" 

"The Bon Odori[7]," Katsuki told him, very seriously, even if he was swaying on his feet. Viktor laughed some more, "see?" He continued his movements, and Viktor giggled more, the sounds disappearing in the quiet night. Yuuri huffed and sat on the ground with a thump, pouting. "Then what sort of dancing are you doing?" He said petulantly.

Viktor watched him, caught his hazy eyes and considered. He hadn't had the urge to dance for anyone in ages, and he would only do it if he was requested (or ordered) to. But this very drunk, absurd man's gaze pierced him, despite him being mussed up and half-asleep. Katsuki probably couldn't even remember what happened tomorrow morning. But Viktor felt light today, like some burden was lifted, like he was, if only for a brief moment, not weighed down by a crushing intensity of something he was afraid to explore. And Viktor found that he wanted to dance for him.

"Like this," he said, and he stood up, shedding the outer layer of his kimono, and took his position.

When he was done, he bowed, and chanced a glance at his client. He was staring wide-eyed at Viktor. His eyes were glinted gold by the candles Viktor had lighted when they entered his room, and he didn't seem as drunk before. Oddly enough, his gaze made Viktor squirm, made him uncomfortable. Why was that, Viktor wondered, when he was alright with anyone else staring? What about this ridiculous amateur that made him shy? Perhaps it was the pure wonder and awe that tinted his eyes and shaped his rounded mouth, a gaze that had no intention other than to express his shocked awe. Perhaps it was the way his naivety oozed out of him, unhidden. Perhaps it was the way his eyes had caught the light, iridescent and luminous. This person seemed so innocent, so pure that Viktor couldn't help but shy away from him, like darkness hides from the light.

Katsuki stood up, a little more steadily than before, and reached for Viktor. It's happening, Viktor thought, with sudden clarity and a little gladness. He'd been thrown off course but it'll be the same from here. They would have sex, Katsuki would come, and fall asleep, and tomorrow morning, he would leave.

What came out of Katsuki's mouth shocked him. "Teach me."

Viktor gaped at him. "Teach...?"

"Yes," He insisted, eyes boring into Viktor's. Clearly not as drunk as before. "Teach me that dance."

"Oh...I... fine." Maybe some sort of foreplay, Viktor thought wildly, utterly confused. What was he _doing_?

So Viktor taught him the first few steps, correcting the sequence of his dance and the tilt of his body as a tokenistic and half-hearted attempt at teaching. But Katsuki was truly trying, focusing on Viktor's words, biting his lip as he concentrated, insisting on getting each move exactly right. Viktor found himself getting more invested into it, moving to correct the tilt of his wrists and the way his feet moved across the floor, demonstrating multiple times. When Katsuki finally managed to complete a small part satisfactorily, he sent Viktor a triumphant smile. Viktor grinned back at him, something like pride rising in his hardened chest.

Katsuki had a look on his face one that seemed to say he found Viktor utterly awe-inspiring and miraculous. It was baffling, and made Viktor's breath seize in his throat. He stepped closer to Viktor, and cupped his cheek, gaze arresting.

"That one," he murmured, and his alcoholic breath touched Viktor's lips in a hot rush. Viktor felt hot and cold, all of a sudden, and tried not to shudder. "That smile is the nicest."

Viktor covered his mouth immediately, casting his eyes away, and his client drew his shielding hand away. "Don't hide it," he mumbled, running a thumb across Viktor's cheek. His eyes were piercing. "It's too pretty to hide."

Enough, Viktor wanted to say, but didn't. He just rashly pushed himself against Katsuki, finding his mouth in a harsh, near-panicked clack of teeth and lips.

Katsuki gave a surprised huff of breath, but he kissed back blindly, sloppy. Viktor felt the treacherous relief that they were finally back to where he was familiar. A territory of dominance and submission, where Viktor would definitely lose, a territory of blood and saliva and semen and clashing bodies. Skin. Heat and rutting. Bruises and aching. This is the nature of the vulgar, sold love of Viktor's trade. This was what Katsuki was here for, nothing else. Do not even dare, he told himself sternly, to think of anything else. 

Katsuki pressed another kiss onto his lips, weirdly chaste, and then tucked his head into Viktor's neck. Viktor tilted his head back, waiting for him to do more. And then he realised that Katsuki's breaths had evened out, his grasping hands becoming slack.

Viktor looked down at the dark head resting against his chest, and sighed. He felt like he should be offended, but he just felt a little tired, a little confused, and a little endeared. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked, and then foolishly raised a hand to rest it on Katsuki's dark head. He idly considered his position - half-sprawled on by a bumbling man, after they had danced together. He realised that he had rarely, if never, in his memory, had someone cling onto him in something as innocent as sleep. It gave him a spine-thrill of shock, and that emotion gave way to mild terror. He sat up fully, and carelessly let Katsuki slide down his body like a heavy weight, where he adjusted himself unconsciously on Viktor's lap.

Viktor considered pushing him off, but he sighed and let it be. "What to do," he murmured, and traced the shape of his ear under his hair. "You don't quite belong here, do you?" 

Sleeping, Katsuki looked even younger. The boy - not quite a man yet, couldn't answer, as he slept on.

\---------

Viktor had changed into another set of clothes, cleaned himself up and fixed his hair as the sun rose in the horizon, not long after Katsuki had fallen asleep. Before he went into the adjourning room, where he redressed himself, he had left Katsuki a blanket and a pillow. Even if he couldn't care less, Lilia would have his head if he didn't take care of his clients right.

Viktor sat himself down beside Katsuki as the blanket rustled with a waking body.

"Good morning, Katsuki-sama."

Katsuki let out a pitiful moan, burrowing further into the sheets. Viktor hid his smile behind a practised twist of his lips. "I'm afraid our time is up. Please wake. I have gotten the maids to make you a hangover cure."

He gave another long moan, but he sat up, pressing his hands against his eyes. His hair stuck up everywhere, and his eyes were still half-lidded with sleep and probably what was a hangover. Dressed in one of the teahouse's robes[8], he looked wrecked, but not in the way most of Viktor's clients looked when they left Viktor's bed. Katsuki looked more like he had a fight with many cats. He looked up, at Viktor, bewildered. 

"Oh...right," Katsuki murmured, "General Shinobu brought me here." 

"Katsuki-sama?" Viktor smiled at him, and proffered the bowl in his hands. "Drink it and you'll feel better."

"I can't remember anything," he mumbled, as he took the bowl from Viktor and stared down at the dark liquid, as if it held all the answers he needed. He peeked at Viktor, and Viktor could see the flush crawling up his neck. "What happened?"

"I'm offended," Viktor replied immediately, resting his hands on his lap as he cocked his head. "You can't remember anything?"

He shook his head, and put down the bowl, looking directly at Viktor. He seemed grave and grimly resigned. "Please tell me."

"Why, you can't remember what you did to me?" Viktor pouted, and he bit the side of his cheek and tried not to laugh as the customer's eyes widened. Viktor trailed his hand up to his chest and rested it there. "You took off all my clothes with such haste and kissed me and touched me..."

Katsuki's face had paled, and his hands had tightened into fists. It was not the right reaction, and Viktor frowned inwardly. Somehow, it was less funny than it was before. 

"I... we... I... slept with you?"

"Of course you did," Viktor said, smiling encouragingly at him. "You felt very good, Katsuki-sama-"

"I'm sorry," he said, and his face twisted into an expression of self-hatred and apology. Viktor frowned. This had not been predicted. "I'm sorry for forcing you to-" 

"You didn't force me-"

He shook his head, his mouth downturned, and he got onto his feet to give Viktor a ninety-degree bow. "Please forgive me," he said softly, eyes averted. "I promise I will never show my face here again." He exhaled hard, and then he ran his hand through his hair again, making it stick up even more. "I'm truly a horrible person," he said ruefully, as if it was a passing remark that Viktor was just in the vicinity to hear. He bent to take his neatly folded uniform beside where he was sleeping, and took a step towards the doors.

What was it about this man, who was so determined to elude Viktor to the end? Even when he was sober? He had defied every rule and every predicted behaviour, had been a gust of fresh air in a job that Viktor was coming to be bored of. A pinprick of bright light in a dull, dull world. Viktor found himself responding. 

"I'm sorry, Katsuki-sama," he said, as he pivoted, still keeping his position with his feet tucked under him. "I lied to you. You fell asleep before we could do anything yesterday."

The man turned, his eyes wide. "What-" 

"I thought you might be happy to hear that we did have sex last night," Viktor admitted, "you do not seem to be, so I apologise for lying."

"Why would I be happy that I - I did that to you when I was drunk?" He asked, strangled. He was clearly bewildered, and looked like he was trying to understand everything again. Viktor tilted his head at him.

"Most of my clients would be happy to hear that."

Katsuki's opened his mouth, closed it, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What sort of clients are those?" He asked, a tinge of disdain colouring his tone. Then he blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to..."

"Oh no, it is alright," Viktor smiled at him. Katsuki finally sat down, cross-legged opposite him. He tugged a hand through his hair again. His hair now looked like several birds had decided to nest in it. In the morning light and rumpled from sleep, Katsuki looked soft, delicate and fragile.

"Sorry, can I drink that?" He asked, sheepishly, and Viktor gave him the bowl with the hangover drink. He downed it in one gulp, and then made a face before putting it down. He glanced up at Viktor. "I really didn't do anything to you?" Katsuki asked, voice small, worrying his lip.

"Other than showing me your dancing," Viktor teased lightly, "we did nothing."

His face pinked again, and he let out a soft, sheepish laugh. "I go off the rails just like my father when I drink," he mumbled. "It must have been embarrassing."

"You are different, Katsuki-sama," Viktor told him, and was surprised at his own admission. "Very different, indeed."

"A good different?" He asked, a little hopefully, and Viktor let his lips quirk in something like real amusement.

"That remains to be seen, don't you think?" 

Katsuki blinked at him, rapidly. "I will be waiting for you, Katsuki-sama," Viktor said, as he leaned forward on one hand to move into Katsuki's space, looking up into his face. They were so close Viktor could see a tiny smattering of darker purple flecks in Katsuki's oddly-coloured eyes. He had not noticed them, when it was dark the night before. "Do visit me again," he continued, and laid a hand on Katsuki's thigh. "I'll give you a discount." Then he winked.

Katsuki flushed violently red so quickly Viktor thought he might faint, and he bit his lip hard. He leaned back, like he was trying to get away from Viktor. "I don't like men," he said quickly, and Viktor hummed under his breath, his mouth curling with amusement.

"Alright," he replied easily, "but if you'll like to see me again when the fancy strikes," he stalled Katsuki from retorting with the next lines, "for nothing other than a good drinking session, of course, feel free to ask for me again. I am a very good...drinker." He winked at Katsuki, and watched as the blush spread to the tips of his ears.  

Katsuki then blurted out: "you want to see me again? Um. For drinking, of course." Viktor bit back a growing smile. So cute, he thought.

"Of course," Viktor replying him easily, gracing the blushing man with another smile.

At least he would entertain Viktor until Viktor was bored again.

\---------

incredibly nerd and extremely extra notes:

[1] shimabara was one of the licensed _yukaku_ (pleasure quarters) in kyoto, where brothels recognised by the government were situated. later, it was also a _hanamachi_ (flower town), a geisha district. it started from 1640, but became defunct after prostitution was outlawed in japan since 1958.

[2] yuuri couldn’t make up his mind about the person’s gender, but we all know where his tendencies lie, don’t we?

[3] shakespeare’s _twelfth night_ ’s opening lines, when orsino is waxing lyrical about his unrequited love, olivia.

"Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.

Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,

Methought she purged the air of pestilence.

That instant was I turned into a hart,

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,

E'er since pursue me.” 

[4] surprise, surprise! or maybe not so surprised, since the meiji period was known for rapid modernisation and being open to western culture a lot more than the preceding eras. shakespeare was mentioned in japan as early as 1841, but was appropriated (read: reworked) to further certain values, ideas and customs that were privileged in japan. so in particular, plays with strong political views or discussions of morality were favoured, like _hamlet_ or _julius caesar. twelfth night_ , i think, was probably not that popular, but here, i quote “many literary men in the meiji era had experience with translation of european literature.” yuuri seems to be a man of many interests, doesn’t he?

[5] the meiji period was a period where western influence was heavy. this included the ideas of homosexuality as a sin. we cannot forget, of course, the acceptance of homosexuality during the preceding edo-period. one can perhaps even say homosexuality flourished under this period, where male-male bonds were seen as entirely regular. in 1873, sodomy was criminalised under the _shinritsu koryo_ (translated to be outline of the new criminal code), but repealed in 1883. but the underlying notions attached to homosexuality since then was not so easily erased again, i think.

[6] teru teru bozu literally means “shine shine monk” and is used to prevent rainy days. hanging one upside down is a prayer for rain.

[7] the bon oburi dance is danced to welcome the spirits of the dead during the festival of obon. obon is a festival that honours the spirit of one’s ancestors.

[8] _someone_ had to undress him, and viktor can’t say he found it a chore. nice bodies are made to be appreciated, you know, particularly since viktor's trade is one of the flesh. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll also be adding more tags as the story goes on so as not to spoil the other chapters hurhur. i also realise that my writing might have anachronistic elements, but i am undeniably a product of my times. 
> 
> have a nice day y'all!! as usual, kudos and comments are appreciated! :-)


	3. oh the motions of tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back 
> 
> title from mary oliver's poem "loneliness"

"You're putting in a lot of effort," Yuri Plisetsky drawled, where he was lounging at the door, Viktor's tray of food carelessly placed in front of him. Viktor didn't bother turning to greet him, carefully combing out his hair so it hung straight and tidy, a waterfall of silver down his back. He had chosen to wear a deep red and dead-leaf yellow kimono today, with bold chrysanthemums adorning his hems. "Which one is it today? The one who buys you useless trinkets or the one who buys you expensive food?"

"The new one," Viktor replied, as he brushed a little rogue over his lips. He blinked at the mirror coyly, and smiled at his reflection. "Have you met him, Yuri?"

"Yes," Yuri said shortly, then shoved the food more aggressively at him. "Try not to break him, then."

"Break?" Viktor said innocently, finally turning to Yuri, who raised his eyebrows at him. His blonde hair was ridiculously messy and badly cut, his hair covering his bright green eyes. His face was dirty, his hands red from washing dishes. Viktor remembered when this 15-year old boy had kneed an aggressive man in the balls and thrown him out, and then proceeded to ruin his general appearance in any way possible. Yuri had fiercely rejected Lilia's proposal of a job, and insisted that he would only be the waiting staff. Dumb, Viktor thought, but he couldn't help but be impressed by him. "I treat all my customers very well. When did you see him? He only came once." 

Yuri gave him a little snort. "He came to the kitchens to thank the cook for making him a hangover cure. Needless to say, Hinako-san was quite taken with him."

"What do you think of him, Yuri?"

He paused, then said slowly, "He doesn't seem like... the others."

"No," Viktor agreed, "he doesn't. Isn't that more fun, then?" He smiled at Yuri, and moved towards the door to daintily start eating.

Yuri watched him, his eyes narrowed a fraction. "You are quite cruel, huh."

"Cruel?" Viktor asked, keeping his smile as he picked up some grains of rice with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Yuri-kun," he said, keeping his tone light, "this is how  _Tsubaki_ works. This is simply business, simply a game. And I always win." He ate the rest of his meal cleanly and quickly, as Yuri sat opposite him and waited. He pushed the meal away after a while, and Yuri picked up the tray.

"But aren't you beginning to be bored of winning?" Yuri asked, and, without waiting for an answer, went away. Viktor felt a stab of annoyance at him having the last word, but he shooed the feeling away. He turned back to his mirror.

"Katsuki Yuuri," he murmured, his lips curling over the syllables, breath caressing each tone. He gave himself another brilliant smile and stood. "I wonder how would you entertain me today."

\--------- 

"Hello, Viktor," Katsuki said shyly, as the maids pulled the sliding doors shut behind him. The room was candlelight lit, sodden in shadows and orange light, and Katsuki's face was only barely illuminated until he stepped more fully into the light. He was dressed in Japanese wear today, a dark-blue kimono with thin white strips and a white satin sash around his waist, and a lighter blue haori around his shoulders. It suited him, made him look softer, younger. He had a hat in one hand, and a bag of something in the other. Viktor smiled inwardly, a little amused by how fast the young man has brought his gifts.

"Katsuki-sama," Viktor greeted, and inclined his head a little. "Is that for me?"

A slight pink tinge crept over his face, and Katsuki placed the paper bag onto the table, his hair hiding his eyes. He drew out two small alcohol bottles. "My mother enjoys making her own  _sake_ ," he said, "when I told her I was meeting a friend for some drinks, she insisted that I brought these two along. I hope you do not mind."

"I see," Viktor replied easily, reaching over to pick the bottle into his hands, inspecting the smooth polished surface of it. "So you consider me your friend, Katsuki-sama?" 

"Oh no," Katsuki said immediately, waving his hands in front of himself, flustered. "I do not dare to be so pretentious; I merely thought it was better if I..."

"Lied to her?"

Katsuki blinked in surprise, and said, "I did not wish to disappoint her." He raised his head to give Viktor a half-resigned, half-helpless smile. "She was quite happy to hear that I have a friend, after all..." Trailing off, Viktor's customer looked a little pensive, then shook his head. "Ah. I have spoken too much. Shall we?" 

Viktor accepted Katsuki's proffered cup, quick thoughts circulating in his head as he sieved through the information he was given. He took a sip of the drink, and gave a soft noise of surprise. "This is pretty good."

"I am glad you like it. Have some more, if you like."

A few cups later, Katsuki was humming softly under his breath, the top button of his shirt unfastened. Viktor was watching the way the wavering candlelight danced over his smooth visage, the way his eyes glinted in the dim light. Katsuki's gaze was fixed on the sliding doors that led to Viktor's inner room, where drawings of houses and the moon adorned them. Viktor downed the  _sake_ in his cup. 

"Katsuki-sama, regarding what you said..." 

Katsuki looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. He was a little unfocused, but still steady. "Which one?"

"About your mother being happy to know you have friends."

"Ah. Please do not bother yourself with that, Viktor-san. I simply spoke too much."

"Could it be that you are lonely?"

Katsuki blinked again at him, then his gaze transferred to the cup held between his fingers. "Why do you say so?"

"You paid for my company, but you have not done anything to me, other than offer me a drink and talk." 

The man was silent for a moment. "I do not like men-"

"Yet there are many others, cheaper and along the street, and would readily do this with you. Why come here? Why come to me?" 

"Am I being a bother?"

"You're not answering my question," Viktor pointed out, and Katsuki sighed softly.

"You did say I can come again to drink," he tried, but Viktor looked at him and didn't reply. Katsuki took another drink from his cup and put it down. "It is a trivial reason," he murmured, and he reached for the now almost-empty bottle of  _sake_. "I am not lonely," he said, with a faint smile, "I have a family who loves me, and friends who do, too."

"You may have all those, but you could still be lonely," Viktor told him. "You could have many people who love you, but you could still feel alone. It's like...you're looking for a place to go, but there are no places open for you, no places that embrace you, no places that register your absence and long for your return. Am I wrong?"

Viktor tilted his head and waited for Katsuki to reply. His face was bare with surprise, and slowly, it morphed into a genuine smile. 

"No," he said, "I don't think you are wrong. Are you lonely, Viktor?"

"Me?" Viktor asked, eyebrows raising.

"Yes, since you are able to identify what being lonely is." 

"I'm not lonely," Viktor chuckled, spreading his arms wide to gesture around him, refusing to even think about it. "I have  _Tsubaki_."

"I see." After a moment of silence, Katsuki gave a heavy sigh, then folded his arms onto the table, his head resting on them. "I don't know what to do," he murmured, soft and tired, his eyes fluttering shut. "I feel ungrateful for feeling that way, you know."

"You feel ungrateful for feeling lonely?"

Katsuki's nod was half-hidden by his posture. "My chest aches like someone is squeezing, gripping the space inside me for no explicable reason. I am luckier than most, but somehow... it is unsatisfying."

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, how this man talks about himself, self-conscious and self-depreciating, yet it is clear that he is looking for something that he himself is not sure what. Viktor learnt, a long time ago, that material wealth sometimes came with a whole lot of hollowness and emptiness; like the objects they so coveted, their owners lacked a soul, and attempted to fill it by stuffing it full with things that can be bought. Katsuki did not seem like such a person, he merely seemed lost, searching through fog, full of doubt and apprehension. For his own inexplicable reasons, Viktor wished to soothed him, to gentle out his edges and reassure him:  _it will be fine_. Then Viktor snorted at his own thoughts, ironically amused at his own softness;  _fine_ indeed. Savagely, angrily almost, Viktor shoved those thoughts away. Viktor moved over to Katsuki's side and touched his arm, guiding him up. He leaned in and kissed him gently, pulling away before Katsuki could. "I could satisfy you," he whispered into his ear, sliding his body down to rest in front of Katsuki on his elbows.

"Viktor, what-"

"You're really asking me that?" Viktor laughed, as his expert hands made quick work of the belt and zip, the other hand reaching between his legs to massage. 

Katsuki yelped, and Viktor was pushed back up into a sitting position. Katsuki's face was bright, burning red, and Viktor was more amused than irritated. 

"What is it?"

"No, it's just... you were too close-"

"How else am I supposed to satisfy you?" Viktor pouted. He crawled over, Katsuki watching with wide eyes. He had pressed his hands onto the door behind him, looking cornered.

"It's not that, it's just- I don't need you to do this if you think-"

"Need?" Viktor asked, finally reaching him and touching his face with both palms, a teasing look on his face, quirked lips. "I don't need anything, but I do want something." He let his breath caress Katsuki's cheek and mouth along his jawline, nuzzling against his throat and pressing a kiss over his rapid heartbeat. He pulled back, noting how Katsuki's eyes had darkened, closer to black than maroon-hazel. "Relax," he said lowly, then bent down and pressed their lips together, smirking at the gasp Katsuki made as their lips connected. He pressed a little harder, gently flicking his tongue against the closed seam of Katsuki's lips. Then he was pushed away again, Katsuki's hands on his shoulders.

"What is it now?" Viktor sighed, using one hand to push one side of his hair away from his face, eyes narrowed in slight irritation. "Really, you're the first person who pushed me away twice."

"I'm sorry," Katsuki offered, sounding sincerely so. Viktor refused to let it take away his irritation. "It's just... I was not ready," he admitted, "we're both men..."

"You can pretend I'm a woman if you're so inclined," Viktor told him, and Katsuki's hands slid down to press lightly against his hips. "You can even call me Victoria. Besides," he continued, gently sliding his hands up to cup Katsuki's face. " _Tsubaki_  is the most discrete shop in the district." He pressed a finger to the man's lips and smiled at him, "we can keep our secrets, Katsuki-sama."  _Well_ , Viktor thought,  _we can keep them for as much as they are worth._  

"I don't want to treat you like a woman," Katsuki said, as Viktor tilted his head in confusion at that. "It will be unfair to you. I just want you to be you." 

"Then this is who I am," Viktor murmured, swaying a little closer and tilting Katsuki's face up, eyes fixed on his swirling pair. "I am a person who wants what he wants... and gets what he wants. What is the point in denying pleasure?" He whispered, running his thumb across Katsuki's cheek. "Because it is condemned to be immoral? Because it must be wrong? Because it is impure? Am I dirty for wanting such things: the heat of your body and the taste of your mouth?" Viktor let a soft breath ghost over Katsuki's cheek and felt him shudder. "Then so be it." Katsuki let out a little moan, shifting to accommodate Viktor's weight more as he closed the tiny gap between their lips.  Viktor let a smirk spread over his face and he bent forward and kissed the man again, coaxing him into opening his lips. He kissed down his neck, licking and gently nibbling at the exposed skin, careful not to leave any marks. He felt Katsuki's soft hands slid up and rest on his back lightly. Viktor opened his shirt, humming in appreciation as his fingers caressed tender skin and hard abs. Katsuki sucked in a breath as Viktor's fingers explored, and Viktor raised his head to send him a coy smile as his hands wandered down his already opened pants.

"I am not going to stop," he warned lightly, fingers slipping underneath his underwear. Katsuki's only reaction was to stare at him and inhale harder, so Viktor bent his head down and pressed his mouth against his erection. The fabric became damp, and his cock twitched against his lips. Slowly, Viktor teased Katsuki, blowing hot air and cupping the hot weight in the palm of his hand. If possible, Katsuki's blush was even redder, eyes wide with something like disbelief and apprehension and lust.

"Do not worry," Viktor murmured, as he pulled his pants down further and bent his face close to Katsuki's groin, his erection springing free and leaving a streak of white where it had hit Viktor's cheek. Viktor was quite pleased with what he saw, as he pumped the length a few times with his hand. "I'll take care of you." Then he took Katsuki into his mouth, teasing his glans with kitten-licks before swallowing his length down. Katsuki gave a choked whine, his hands spazzing from where they lay beside his body. Viktor pulled away with a wet, lewd sound, his lips pulled into a smirk. He took Katsuki's hand and placed it on his head. 

"You can pull," he purred, "I like that." Then he slid his mouth back down onto his cock, humming around the erect length. Katsuki's hands hesitatingly slid into Viktor's hair, gentle and cautious, the strands shifting through his fingers as Viktor continued to slurp and lave over his groin. Viktor tilted his face up to watch Katsuki's face; his eyes were squeezed shut and his red mouth was ajar, gasps tumbling out from between those lips. As Viktor watched, his eyes flickered open and caught Viktor's own. They were dark, lust-blown eyes, shadowed by a deep yearning, perhaps even imploring. It was a delightful sight, and Viktor felt smug to have reduced the resistant man to this state. He went at it more earnestly than usual. Soon, the man was gasping, his fingers twisting and grasping at Viktor's hair, his hips rising up to press against the back of Viktor's throat. Viktor held him there for a moment, then swallowed around the length. With a hand pressed against his mouth, Katsuki gave a muffled shout and came down Viktor's throat. Expertly, Viktor swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Katsuki's eyes were still blown wide open, and his face was bright red. Viktor smiled at him. His mouth felt abused, hot and tingling, but it wasn't a bad feeling.

"You liked that, then," Viktor said. He didn't realise he had gotten hard as he was blowing Katsuki, but now he shifted himself to hide it. His body seemed treacherous today, a fire ignited under his skin. This man's scent, musky but clean and a little sweet, saturated Viktor, those disarming, honest eyes attractive. Viktor felt a flash of heat as his eyes swept over his body, fit and toned, and wondered about his weight that could press him down and fuck him hard.

Katsuki stared at him harder, and then, to Viktor's surprise, kissed him chastely. "Thank you," he said as he pulled back, eyes locked and devastating on Viktor's, which made him want to shy away again. He was bright, too bright, chasing away the shadows in the room and burning Viktor. Viktor jolted back in surprise as he felt a hand move up his thigh. "I would like to return the favour."

"You do not have to force yourself," Viktor said, even if his body was screaming at the heat. "I am here for these services."

"Still," Katsuki hummed, as he nuzzled against Viktor's shoulder, giving him a lopsided smile, so close their cheeks brushed. "I would feel better this way. Can I touch you?"

Viktor nodded dumbly. Katsuki's hand was warm, callused, his fingers delicate and tender where they wrapped around Viktor's erection. It has been a while since anyone touched him there, and Viktor almost forgot what it felt like. Viktor let his eyes flutter shut as he sunk into Katsuki's embrace. It was pleasant, soft waves of pleasure crashing down on Viktor starting from his lower belly. He shuddered, Katsuki's breath heavy where he had rested his head, staring down at Viktor's lap. Viktor's kimono had slid off his shoulders, hanging by his arms, the bottom splayed open. When Viktor opened his eyes - he hadn't realised he had closed them - Katsuki's eyes were piercing, demanding. Viktor choked back a moan, but he couldn't look away. He kept his eyes locked on the other man's, shuddering as the pleasure built inside him. Sweat rolled down his face, his thighs, his body so hot it felt like burning. The orgasm took him by surprise, sending his limbs jittery as he gave a soft, breathless cry. Katsuki worked him through it, until Viktor was too sensitive and pushed his hand away.

He looked up to see Katsuki experimentally licking his palm, and then the man gave him an abashed, uncertain smile.

"You've done that before," Viktor said, ignoring how he was breathless.

Katsuki cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes." 

 _Who?_ Viktor wanted to ask, but Katsuki had turned away and reached for his pants. "Are you leaving?" Viktor asked instead, and Katsuki shook his head.

"Then why are you getting dressed?" Viktor murmured, cupping his cheek as he leaned into his space again. He twisted his lips into an inviting smirk. "Shall we continue having fun inside?"

Katsuki hummed, zipping up his pants. He took Viktor hand in his own, turning his head and dropping a kiss in his palm, an oddly affectionate move. Without another word, he pulled Viktor into his arms and lifted him up in a swift move. Viktor was pressed against his chest like he weighed nothing, and so close, the man's scent permeated around him again.

"What-"

"I just felt like doing that," Katsuki said, with another sheepish smile, as he took steps towards the inner room, Viktor tucked close to his chest in bridal style. "Am I not allowed?" He set Viktor down onto the laid-out futon, and tucked his now unruly hair behind his ears.

"You're allowed to do anything you want to," Viktor smiled, "I am yours for tonight, after all." 

"Then, can you sleep with me?"

Viktor pulled aside his kimono in a swift move, biting his lip against the flutter of shivery heat that ran through him. "That wasn't enough for you?"

Katsuki raised his hands in negation. "I don't mean that sort of sleep!" He blustered, "I meant like, regular sleeping! I meant - if you could stay beside me when we retire for the night."

"Ah. Sure, if you would like to." Viktor tried not to be disappointed as he shucked off the remaining of his clothes, sighing at his lost fun. 

Katsuki tugged off his open shirt and rest of his pants, moving under the sheets, pulling it over so it covered his body. Viktor did the same, laying down beside the man after he blew out the candles. Viktor carefully curled his body around the man's arm, gingerly resting his head on his shoulder. It wasn't like he was getting any sleep like that, so he just had to act the act, until Katsuki fell asleep.

But Katsuki wasn't going to let him go so easily, it seemed. He turned and wrapped his arms around Viktor's body - those strong, toned arms, one hand sliding into Viktor's hair and the other winding around his waist. His lips were pressed against Viktor's forehead, before he pulled away slightly.

"Katsuki-sama - this is very close."

"Oh, I am sorry," Katsuki said quickly, loosening his arms, "did that hurt?"

"No, I was just unsure that it would be the most comfortable for you," Viktor demurred, and Katsuki squeezed him a little. 

"I'm fine. I like this. Is it not alright?" 

"Oh no, it is." Viktor is a  _professional_. He can deal with this lack of distance for the entire night, no problem.

Katsuki gave a soft sigh and nuzzled  _even_ closer, his breathing long and slow. After a moment, he said, "Viktor." 

"Yes?"

"Are you tired?" 

"No."

"..." 

"What is it? Should I call for some water?"

"No. I just wondered if...we could talk more?"

"Of course, Katsuki-sama."

"Could you call me Yuuri?"

Viktor hesitated. It seemed extremely intimate, a whispered first name in the dark, pressed against one another. It is only a name, Viktor chided himself, what can saying a name do?

"Yuuri-sama, then." 

Katsuki seemed a little unsatisfied, but he let it go. He seemed to mull over something.

"What should we talk about?" Viktor asked, after a moment.

"Anything you like."

"..." Viktor thought for a moment, "tell me about yourself. Do you have siblings?"

"I have an older sister; her name is Mari."

"How much older is she?"

"7 years... do you have siblings, Viktor?" 

Viktor hummed, "no, I do not. How old are you, Yuuri-sama?"

"Twenty-four..."

The white moonlight entering from the window found both of them, hours later, entangled and fast asleep, and laughed.

\--------- 

 Viktor woke up warm and well-rested. He blinked awake more fully, and stared at the face in front of him. Katsuki's face was relaxed, even younger in sleep, mouth pushed into a pout, his arms still tight around his body. The feeling in Viktor's chest was strong, a little sweet and way too bitter - his mother, holding him closely in the final days, too afraid of something, as if she could protect him by shielding him with her own body - Viktor wriggled, but Katsuki was strong, rousing as Viktor struggled harder. 

"Hmm?"

"Katsuki-sama, please let go of me. It is morning."

Katsuki mumbled something under his breath but let Viktor go, to his relief, curling onto his side. His sleep-heavy eyes slowly flick open, blinking a few times as Viktor reached for his discarded robes. Then he pulled himself up, yawning behind his hand, blindly reaching for his glasses.

"Good morning, Viktor," he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. Conscious of his own rumpled, untidy state, Viktor turned away from him and reached for the bell to ring for the maids. 

"Katsuki-sama," he said, hiking up his clothes further up his body. "The maids will be here to tidy." 

"Where are you going?"

"To change."

"It is fine," Katsuki objected lightly, and Viktor turned, frowning. 

"No, really. Please excuse me."

"I do not mind it, Viktor." 

" _I_  mind it," Viktor said, sharply, then he turned and went into the adjunct room. He brushed his hair quickly, calming himself with the familiar motions, and pulled on his extra set of clothes. He smoothed down his clothes and smiled at his own reflection, steeling himself. Viktor is a  _professional_. 

Katsuki was dressed in his clothes, a little more rumpled than before. He was thanking the maids who were exiting with the sheets in their hands. He looked up at Viktor as he came back, and then sheepishly scratched his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You seemed to be upset."

"I'm not," Viktor replied easily, giving Katsuki a practised smile. "You are leaving now, then?"

Katsuki nodded and stood. He hesitated at the door, turned slightly, then shook his head. 

"Will I see you next week, Katsuki-sama?" Viktor asked, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in his head. He quirked his lips upwards. He liked to play with fire. He liked to win. He would not let him surprise and unsettle him any further. He would break this man.

"You can call me Yuuri, Viktor," Katsuki reminded him, and he pulled open the sliding doors. He stepped out without answering Viktor's question. 

"Yuuri," Viktor called before he could leave. "I will be waiting for you."

\---------

 "You want to go out?" Lilia asked, disbelievingly. Viktor rubbed a red camellia petal between his fingers and hummed.

"I'm bored."

"And?" 

"I want to go out. 

"Were you thinking I would say yes?"

"But I haven't been out in so long," Viktor objected, "the books are becoming boring, the company boring, the dance boring, boring, boring!"

"How about the koto?"[1] 

"I'm not interested. I want to go out."

"Have you replied to the love letters?"[2]

Viktor's lip curled in amused contempt. "I threw them away."

"You're lucky I have copied extras, then." 

"They are all badly written and don't deserve to get replies."

"It's part of your job. Don't go around breaking hearts, now."

"Their affections are as flimsy as the paper they write on," Viktor replied, "and as steady as the flickering of a firefly.[3] Why should I waste my time?" 

"Because they are paying you?"

"It's a new era, Lilia, love letters are outdated." 

"Then we can all take the trip down the memory lane." 

"I want to go out," Viktor repeated, "I'll reply them when I am back." 

"You have a new play toy," Lilia said, a non-sequitur, bringing her ubiquitous pipe to her mouth and drawing in a deep breath. Viktor knew she came to talk to him about this, and he carefully treaded.

"What new play toy?" Viktor picked up his watering can and carefully watered his flowers.

"Katsuki Yuuri. A good customer, I'd say. He is from a good family, after all. Hmm." Viktor didn't turn, but he stiffened a little. He knew the second business  _Tsubaki_ ran - he played a huge part in it, after all - but somehow, for Katsuki Yuuri, despite their two meetings, it felt like betrayal.

"A good family?" Viktor drawled, his tone purposefully airy, but Lilia wasn't fooled by his apparent lack of interest.

"A prestigious military family. His father is quite the famous general, Katsuki Toshiya. A hero, by definition. His wife runs a popular onsen inn. His son is rumoured to be really good - a genius, actually - with a sword, but said to - prefer the company of men. He was transferred to another unit early this year, but the details are unclear. Perhaps you should ask him, Viktor." 

"He did say he doesn't like men."

"Yet he comes to you."

Viktor flicked his hair back and turned to smirk at her. "I am quite desirable; I'd say so myself." 

"Oh shut up, you brat. Has he written you love letters yet?"

"I want to go out. I'll bring Otabek with me and wear a hat." The sky was dense with clouds, a low, thrumming anticipation of a storm hung heavy in the air. The people today seemed to be restless, the whispering and murmuring too low for Viktor to find out. Something must be happening, and Viktor wanted to know. 

"Learn more about Katsuki Yuuri. It could be useful." 

"Maybe I'll bring an umbrella too, it looks like it might rain," Viktor continued, staring at his red flowers.

"So you are bored of your new play toy?"

"Not yet," Viktor drawled, "Perhaps soon."

"Hmm," Lilia said, voice heavy with insinuation. Viktor refused to turn around. "I'll give you two hours. Wear sensibly and hide your hair. When you are back, get ready for the night."

"When does this start?"

"Now."

\---------

Viktor dressed plainly, hiding his hair behind a wide-brimmed straw hat with a veil that hid his face. Otabek was half a step behind him as he strolled out of  _Tsubaki_ , closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet fresh air. They turned out of the pleasure quarters, and Viktor wandered where people were headed towards - the Nijo Castle.

"What is going on?" Viktor asked a little teenage lady passing him by, trying out his best, unaccented Japanese [4], and the lady stopped and replied, half-turned towards him.

"There is a military showcase today [5]," she said excitedly, colour high on her cheeks. "It has been happening for a few years, didn't you know?" 

"Oh yes," Viktor said, vaguely remembering someone mentioning it to him before. "It is happening now?"

"Yes, the semi-finals!" She grinned and waved Viktor forward, "follow me!" She chattered on about something, and Viktor, more concerned with watching the people around him, only paid attention when a name caught his attention.

"Katsuki Yuuri?" 

"Yes," she said, her plain brown eyes bright with anticipation, "everyone thinks he's going to win again this year. He is really good." Then she blushed, her voice turning a little dreamy, "and he looks - so graceful, when he's fighting. Ah - it started!"

Katsuki Yuuri was standing in the middle of a large ring, his forearms wrapped in bandages and holding onto a long, thin sword. Viktor gaped in surprise, then his lips curled. What a coincidence, he thought. Katsuki's face was blank, smooth, and he stood extremely still, as if he was standing alone, waiting, without the eyes on him. His opponent is a large, burly man holding something like a brutish club, advancing, and he still did not move. The air was tight with anticipation, every gaze focused on the two men at the center.

The man advanced. Yuuri's eyes were still closed. As the man first moved close enough to strike, Yuuri snapped into action. Viktor's breath got caught in his throat as he watched Yuuri move, quick and deadly, like a snake, his face twisted in pure concentration. It was suave, it was savage, and it set a rhythm to Viktor's blood that sent him wanting.  _God_ ,  _who knew he could move like that_? Viktor thought, unable to tear his eyes away as Yuuri danced out of reach and back, his sword glinting and waving like swift wind.

Viktor was transfixed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Yuuri, who moved as if he was made to do this, like he was dancing to a feral melody only he heard. He was also smiling fiercely, his face unfamiliar in its mad glee and enjoyment: this was Yuuri Viktor didn't know and never expected. Viktor's heart thumped loudly in his ear. The crowd's noise was drowned out, his entire focus pinned on that singular man. 

Viktor doesn't know how much time passed when Yuuri's opponent was finally pinned to the ground with Yuuri's sword on his throat, Yuuri's face twisted in ferocious glee. That look on his face was a little unsettling, but fierce and mad and beautiful. Viktor swallowed down his desire. The spectator's noise grew, and, as if snapping out of some trance, Yuuri pulled back, his face turning blank. But, as Viktor watched, he could see the forced stillness of his face, his hands clutched beside him, as if he was resisting some urge. There was an untamed air hovering around his restlessness. Yuuri bowed, before going back into the castle.

"When is the final match?" Viktor asked, but the girl was busy being distracted by Yuuri's back and didn't hear him.  _If only you knew_ , Viktor thought, dryly amused, then touched her elbow to regain her attention. "Miss, when is the final match?" 

"The next afternoon," she said, then turned her attention back to where Yuuri had disappeared. He looked at the sky, and Otabek spoke behind him.

"Perhaps you wish to meet Katsuki-sama," he asked lowly, and Viktor turned and gave him a practised smile.

"We cannot enter where is he."

"We can send a message."

"No," Viktor said airily, "I want to see other things. Thank you, Miss," he continued politely, and she gave him another wide smile as he turned away.

Katsuki -  _Yuuri_  - Viktor thought, some desire thrumming away under his skin, fiery and fierce and making Viktor swallow hard around the saliva in his mouth. The way he had fought - clean, graceful, controlled but ruthless - Viktor raised his other hand to clutch at his arm, trying to breathe normally, shaking his head a little to banish the image of Yuuri he had glimpsed during the fight - it was surprising, and fascinating. He did not know such a man - such a bumbling, shy, gentle man could fight like that. It made Viktor's blood howl with want.

 --------

nerd notes:

[1] a traditional 13-stringed japanese instrument, derived from the chinese  _guzheng_. courtesans (called  _oiran_ ) were expected to know how to play it, amongst their other skills. viktor is what you would call a  _kagema_ , but lilia runs a high-class brothel with high-class prostitutes.

[2] in the period before the Meiji Era (Edo Period), courtship in the pleasure quarters was highly codified. It meant love letters written poetically, dressing a certain way, buying certain gifts (usually bedding ha ha)... but when restrictions on prostitution grew tighter, i imagine that these codes faded.

[3] from Higuchi Ichiyo's  _Nigorie_  (Troubled Waters). I've been reading quite a lot of translated Japanese literature for a module this semester, and I must say I'm in love. Higuchi Ichiyo and Natsume Soseki's writings are gorgeous. (And possibly influencing this fic q a bit, but who knows.)

[4] Viktor tried to get rid of his accented Japanese once. He was quite proud, in fact, when he managed to reply a client's question in perfect sounding Japanese. Instead of praise, however:

"Why are you speaking like that?" 

"I thought you might like that." 

"No. Don't speak Japanese like that - you should speak like you did, previously."

"With my accent?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're different. You're not like the other whores on the street. You're special, exotic. So don't try to be the same."

Viktor understood then. He was an object of exoticised, fetishised desire, not someone to be considered on the same level as his clients. He never tried again. (But he never let clients hear him speak his mother-tongue either, only Japanese or English. But of course, Yuuri is special, isn't he?)

[5] entirely made up. no historical basis, as far as i know. (unless you count manga sources as legit) i just need to satisfy my need for a BAMF! yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while (for this fic at least!) 
> 
> some good news: i've actually finished writing most parts for this, but bad news is i haven't edit and am unsure about the trajectory of this fic...... so i'm thinking of asking someone to read/ edit/ give me feedback before i actually post them. yes/no? if anyone is interested you can comment here or direct message me on my [tumblr](https://oooopth.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thank you for all your kudos and comments, have a lovely day, y'all


	4. clouds about the moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from a basho haiku  
> oh! clouds about the moon, from whence/ she falters forth so debonair!

Two weeks!  _Two whole weeks_ , and Viktor had been distracted since the festival. He dressed in a pastel blue kimono with a navy blue geometric sash, since Yuuri seemed to prefer blue, and judging by his reaction, it was a right choice. His hair was combed and hung straight down his back, one side tucked behind his ear and the other framing his face. He wore earrings today - long tasseled ones, the same dark blue as his sash. He fidgeted, fiddling with his hems, then as Otabek informed him that Katsuki Yuuri was here, he inhaled a breath and stilled himself.

"Katsuki - no, Yuuri-sama," Viktor murmured, as he sat down opposite Yuuri, who was distracted by him, openly staring and not replying. "Yuuri-sama?" Viktor swallowed the saliva in his mouth, curling his fingers into his palm so his nails cut into his skin.  _Focus_ , he thought.

Yuuri coughed into his hand and smiled at Viktor. "Hello, Viktor," he said, his voice low and warm. "You are very - um," he turned pink, "very pretty."

"Pretty?" Viktor chuckled, and he reached forward and took his hand, turning his wrist upwards. "Thank you. You did not come the last two weeks. Were you otherwise preoccupied?"

"Um," Yuuri darted his eyes towards Viktor's face, then down to his hands, "yes." 

"What was it? A woman, perhaps?"

"Oh no, it's not, it's just, I..."

"Was injured?" Viktor guessed, running his finger over the exposed, still-pink scar running along his forearm. He flicked his eyes up to look at Yuuri. "Or perhaps, you did not want to see me?"

Yuuri cleared his throat. "It's nothing," he said evasively. He turned his wrist over and took Viktor's hand. "Shall we sit?" They settled opposite each other.

"I did not know you could fight so well," Viktor hummed, catching Yuuri's eyes and tilting his head at him, "it was truly a sight to behold."

Yuuri frowned. "What?"

"The showcase, two weeks ago. Were you not in the semi-final?" 

Yuuri looked at him in surprise. "I... ah you saw." 

"Did you win at the final?" Viktor asked, and Yuuri traced the rose of his ear with a light finger. 

"I didn't know you have earholes. You really suit these."

"Did you win?" Viktor persisted, and Yuuri twisted his mouth into a dry smile.

"Why do you want to know?" He hummed, and he ran his fingers over Viktor's long earrings, tugging a little.  

"I want to know everything about you," Viktor breathed, stepping closer to him, "everything. Tell me." He moved his face closer to Yuuri's and tilted his head to the side, their mouths close together, fisting his hand into Yuuri's shirt. He inhaled his scent, musky-sweet, and hummed. 

"I did win," Yuuri said finally, "it was a close fight, though." Something in Viktor crowed with pride, and he scolded it.

"I knew you would," Viktor murmured, and pressed his face against Yuuri's throat and kissed his pulse. "Who taught you how to fight?"

"Viktor, can we talk about something else?" Yuuri asked, pushing Viktor away with a hand, his mouth turned downwards. 

Viktor cocked his head at him. "You are uncomfortable."

"I don't really like talking about that."

"Why? Don't all men enjoy talking about their strength?" 

"I don't. Strength can be dangerous. I think it is quite silly, don't you think? All this posturing. People fighting around with swords for entertainment and because they think it looks cool. These things are not for play."

"Then why did you join that?"

"I was required to." 

"I see." Viktor watched him with narrowed, knowing eyes. " Did something happened that made you say that?" 

Yuuri sighed. "You always see through everything," running his hand down Viktor's hair, fiddling with a strand. He smiled, his eyes dark, more purple today, full of secrets.

"Won't you tell me?" Viktor asked lowly, shifting closer so their knees touched, and laid a hand on Yuuri's knee. 

Yuuri kept his eyes on Viktor's hair, twisted the strand in his hands. "Maybe some other day."

Viktor huffed at him, his mouth pulled into an unwilling pout.

"Don't look at me like that," Yuuri's finger running over Viktor's jutting lower lip. "I wanted to see you," he mumbled, as he pulled Viktor into his arms, sighing as if he was content. Viktor's nose was pressed against his shoulder, and he rested his arms beside Yuuri. 

"Yuuri."

"Hmm?" Yuuri asked, hugging Viktor against his chest.

"If you're so strong, why are you always so gentle with me?" He could feel Yuuri still. Viktor pulled away, wanting to look at his expression, but Yuuri was not even looking at him.

"I don't... want to hurt you." 

"Why would you hurt me?"

"Because... because I can't control my strength too well, sometimes. I've," he coughed, then said the rest quieter, "hurt people before."

"On purpose?"

Yuuri swallowed noisily.

"You can be honest with me," Viktor gentled his tone, "I will not judge you." 

Silence reigned for a few moments. Viktor ran his thumb over Yuuri's covered knee, trying not to be impatient. Yuuri finally spoke, slowly and hesitatingly.

"Not on purpose, but sometimes, I want to. I really, really want to hurt... them," Yuuri swallowed again, and ran his hand over his face. "That's really... sick. I am a horrible person."

"Do you want to hurt me?" 

"No, not you," Yuuri said, his voice strained. He was unhappy. "I don't want to hurt you. I won't hurt you."

"But what if I want you to?" Viktor asked, keeping his eyes on Yuuri's.

His mouth twisted unhappily. "Please don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you," Viktor shifted so he sat in Yuuri's lap. He tilted Yuuri's head up to look into his eyes. "I will give myself to you, if you want. Every part of me. You can do anything you want to me. You are allowed. You can be rough with me. You can use me."

"I don't want to do that," Yuuri repeated, and he pushed Viktor off his lap. "Why are you telling me to do these things? It's... depraved." 

"This is a brothel," Viktor retorted bluntly. "And you are visiting a male prostitute." 

"I  _know_ I'm sick," Yuuri hurled at him, his eyes dark with some self-hatred and anger, " _I know_ , you don't have to say it like that."

"Are you angry?" Viktor drawled, his pulse jumping at how Yuuri's expression turned dangerous.

Yuuri stood abruptly, turned towards the door, and Viktor took his hand. Yuuri snapped and slammed him against the wall in a swift wall, Viktor letting out a gasp in shock. Yuuri's arm was pressed against his throat, his eyes like a storm, black rather than his usual shade. " _Don't_ ," he said, his voice tight. "I don't want to hurt you so  _don't make me_."

Viktor looked back into dark, turbulent eyes and felt breathless - could be the arm pressing against his throat or his desire stifling his breath. At this stage, Viktor was unsure if either were mutually exclusive. Viktor's blood, which had been thrumming in anticipation and impatience, rushed southwards. He went slightly dizzy, heat rising off his skin, and  _wanted_. He liked Yuuri's anger, his weight, bearing down on him. He felt his stomach contract at the wave of lust. He let out a groan and surged forward, finding Yuuri's lips and kissing him soundly. He enjoyed the struggle against Yuuri's body, felt the press of a warm, welcome weight. "I want you," he gasped against Yuuri's mouth, trying to chase his lips as Yuuri moved away, dropping his hands. "I want you right now; don't go."

Yuuri's eyes are bright with shock, and he swallowed around his throat. He looked down, away, and Viktor waited, throbbing, aching. Yuuri was like a nervous animal, a wrong move and he would run, but Viktor wanted, felt a flare of heat so strong inside him like never before, he  _wanted_ , wanted this man, his strength. He pressed him further.

"Look," Viktor said, tugging away his sash and throwing open his garments. His erection was obvious, red and dripping precum, but Viktor felt no shame as Yuuri's eyes dropped down. "Look what you did to me." 

"Viktor," Yuuri swallowed hard, his eyes still trained on Viktor's lower half. Then he dropped to his knees and pulled one of Viktor's leg over his shoulder, kissing his stomach. and licking down. His fingers pressed into Viktor's hips, hard and just on the right side of pain. Viktor spazzed, crying out in surprise as his hand gripped Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri slid his mouth over his hard cock, fisting what he couldn't put into his mouth, and started a fast rhythm. Viktor's legs grew weak as pleasure surged in his veins, his toes curling and his eyes squeezed shut, he felt a bead of sweat leak down from his temple, and Yuuri's wonderful, wonderful mouth sucking hard,  _god_ , it was good, very good, his mind fogged over, his senses narrowed to a point, he was a live, taut wire on the side of electrifying, and he came with a loud colourful curse in Russian. 

Yuuri supported his weight as he collapsed onto a ground, a puddle of tingles and ache.

"Good?" Yuuri asked him quietly, running his fingers over his face and pushing his now disheveled hair back, carefully putting Viktor in his lap. Viktor could only reply in a moan, still wrecked with the after-pleasure, little sparks of heat. He fisted his hand over Yuuri's shirt and inhaled his scent, a little altered and herbal, like medication, and dozed off.

A little later, he woke, clean and covered in a blanket, and sat up. Yuuri was beside him, playing with his hair, his eyes faraway. 

"Yuuri really likes my hair."

"It is very beautiful," Yuuri said absently, twisting three strands into a braid. "Like starlight."

"So you said," Viktor hummed. He laid down his head on Yuuri's lap and felt his hands curl on his head. "You did not come, just now. Are you angry that I fell asleep?" 

"No."

"I'll make it up to you now," Viktor smiled, and he reached for Yuuri's clothes. Yuuri took his hand away and shook his head. 

"I'm fine, Viktor." 

"No, but..."

"About what you said."

"What?" 

"Are you really alright with it?"

"With what?" Viktor said idly, purring a little at the back of his throat as Yuuri's fingers combed through his hair and massaged his scalp. He nuzzled closer. Yuuri's thighs are nice and toned, he thought, running his fingers over the hard muscle. 

"Me... wanting... to hurt people."

"I think it is a very normal thing to feel."

"No... but..." Yuuri swallowed hard. He shook his head. "No, it's fine."

"What is it?" Viktor persisted, rising up and cupping Yuuri's cheek with a hand. 

"I like to fight others. I feel," Yuuri stopped and swallowed again. "I feel good when I hurt people," he whispered, ashamed, "I can't control myself, I want to see blood and flesh and bone, and I-" He dislodged Viktor's hand as he pulled his legs up to his chest.

"Yes?" Viktor murmured, resting his fingers on top of Yuuri's knees.

"I feel... alive," he murmured, "everyone is the same, like me, inside... we are all the same."

"We are all the same," Viktor agreed, "is it wrong to want some evidence of that?" He took Yuuri's hand and rested it against his heart,  _ba-thump_ ,  _ba-thump_ , under Yuuri's savage hand. "Do you want to cut me open to see this heart?" Viktor smiled at Yuuri, whose eyes are wide and fraught with hurt and confusion.

"I don't want to hurt you," Yuuri said hoarsely, and he pulled his hand away.

"Why not me?"

"You are different." 

"How different?"

"You don't laugh at me."

"I see. I think there is nothing wrong with feeling that way," Viktor said cheerfully, and he forced his way between Yuuri's thighs. "It just makes you human... do you think I would want to forgive anyone who hurt me as well?" 

"You don't understand," Yuuri said, a little broken, "I want to kill them."

"Shh," Viktor hummed, climbing onto Yuuri's lap and cupping his face into his palms and staring at him. "Have you killed anyone?"

"I- almost." 

"But you didn't," Viktor ran his fingers across his cheekbones and quirked his lips at him. "Right?"

Yuuri sighed and rested his head against Viktor's shoulder. "If you say it like that..." 

"There is nothing wrong with you," Viktor reassured him. He tried not to smile too brightly,  _that's right_ , he thought,  _rely on me more, then come to me more, then you cannot leave until I cast you aside_.

Yuuri kept his eyes on Viktor and exhaled; his fingers curled against Viktor's hips. "You truly do not mind it?" 

"Of course," Viktor hummed, "and if you have nowhere to exercise these feelings, why not you do it here, with me?" 

"Viktor..." 

"I like being held down," Viktor said honestly, smiling openly at Yuuri, "and I like people who are honest with their desires. Tell me, Yuuri-sama," Viktor dragged his fingertips up Yuuri's face in a sensuous touch, "what do you want to do to me?"

Yuuri let out a half-muffled groan, and he gripped onto Viktor's hips. Perhaps there will be bruises in his skin tomorrow, the colour of twilight in the shape of Yuuri's fingers. "Viktor, I can't..." 

"You can," Viktor whispered, and brushed their lips together.

Yuuri dragged him down and kissed him messily, rough and careless, and Viktor groaned and rocked forward, his cock twitching. Yuuri pulled away and shook his head.

"Not tonight," he said, breathing hard, "not... not tonight."

"You're making me wait?" Viktor huffed, and he rocked against Yuuri's thigh to show his interest.

"It is almost morning," Yuuri said, his voice dark with promise and sending a shiver down Viktor's spine. 

"Oh?" Viktor purred, his voice full of heat, "then I will wait for you."

"Will you dance for me the next time?"

"If you want me to."

"Yes," Yuuri murmured, his touch gentle, soothing. "but now, rest."

Viktor let Yuuri manoeuvre him onto the futon, and tried to think of other things to cool his blood. Yuuri, on the other hand, had no problems falling asleep curled warm and loose around Viktor, his arms tightly wound around his body. Viktor sighed resignedly, ignoring the slight fondness that tinged it. He turned into his touch and let himself sleep.

 ---------

"Yuuri, here," Yuuko said, placing a cup of tea in front of Yuuri, where he was carefully bandaging his arms. "Do you want me to help you?"

"No," Yuuri hummed, tightening the gauze around his shoulder, "thank you, Yuu-chan." He creased his eyes and smiled at Yuuko.

"You seem to be in a good mood. Did something happen?" Yuuko asked, smiling back.

Yuuri lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug.

"Is it that girl you've been seeing?"

Yuuri choked. "What girl?" 

"You've been heading out and not returning till the morning," Yuuko said, voice curious and teasing, "once every two weeks. Did you think I won't notice?"

Yuuri blushed, shaking his head. "It's nothing, Yuu-chan, it's just a friend..."

"A friend that allows you to stay over so often? I suppose you are meeting her tonight, too."

"It's really nothing, sorry Yuu-chan, I have to change..."

"Don't think you can get away from telling me," she said sternly, her eyes laughing, "I'll tell Minako-sensei-" 

"No! Not Minako-sensei!"

"Then you better tell me soon!"

Yuuri pushed her out of his room and slid the door shut with a loud clack, and he ran his hand through his hair. "It's not a girl, Yuu-chan," he mumbled to himself, so low no one else but he could hear, but the usual guilt and self-hatred that accompanied it was washed away with a little excitement tonight.

He thought about Viktor - nothing but Viktor, for the last week. Viktor was like the moon, beautiful, bright, but so distant, so cold. Yuuri remembered his hands, pressed against his face, chilly and cold, his mouth hot, wet, delicious. The silver hair spilling down his back like a stream of moonlight, the cool, amused blue eyes. The nonchalant way he had asked if Yuuri wanted to cut him open, and the calculating tenderness that followed, and the straightforward willfulness that he had displayed when he demanded Yuuri touch him. What a curious, inexplicable man, and it lit a savage fire inside him. He wondered if he could heat Viktor's cool hands up and wind his moon-kissed hair around his palm and pull, and make Viktor remember him even after he left. He shuddered, and wrapped a hand around his shoulder, trying to breathe through the sudden desire that stirred in his loins.

"Hopeless," he murmured to himself, and pushed his hair away from his face. He tugged his sash tighter around his waist, his fingers slipping into a pouch that had vial of precious oil. He pressed his fingers to his face and exhaled, and pulled a hat low over his face. He slipped away through the back-gate, so people won't notice, and strode briskly to the pleasure quarters.

\---------

"Please wait here," Otabek intoned expressionlessly, pulling open the sliding doors, "Viktor is still preparing."

Yuuri smiled in thanks at him, and he settled onto the floor, tapping his fingers nervously on the table in front of him. In the next moment, the second set of sliding doors slid open, and Viktor was standing still in the middle of it. He was dressed in an elaborate, heavy-looking white kimono with long, trailing sleeves. His pale mustard obi was tied in a large, obsequious ribbon in the front. There were gold-threaded lilies climbing all around the fabric, and Viktor's hair was done up in a series of gold and blue pins. His face was powdered white and his lips were red like blood. Yuuri stared at the unfamiliar figure, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat as Viktor raised his eyes to meet his. The compelling blue eyes sent a shiver down Yuuri's spine. With a barely-there smirk, hidden musicians played and Viktor danced, the sleeves dipping, twirling, endlessly graceful, like petals blooming under a light touch. Yuuri could only watch.

He was admiring, yes. He thought Viktor was the most beautiful dancer he had seen in his life, every moment perfectly precise, every expression on his face contrived to evoke the right feelings. But he also felt a nagging sense of uneasiness, something that didn't sit right in his chest. He wondered, briefly, why, but he let the thought float away in Viktor's grace. 

Viktor posed the final move, his fan hiding his face as though in shy anticipation. The music stopped, and footsteps retreated. They were alone now, and Yuuri stood. He blindly moved towards Viktor, his eyes brimming with intent heat.

Viktor's painted lips curled into a coy smile. He shut the fan in a theatrical flick of his wrist.

"Yuuri-sama...?" he demurred, and then he took a step closer to align their bodies together. "Shall we...?"

Yuuri ran his eyes over Viktor's powdered-white, painted face, still silent. He stepped away, surprising Viktor, and took the bell that alerted the servants to come. He asked for a towel and water. It came quickly, and Yuuri led Viktor to the main room where the futon was laid out. He sat him down and took the cloth, wet it, and wiped it across Viktor's face lightly.

"You could have just told me," Viktor muttered, tilting his face so that Yuuri's cloth could easily access it, "I could have saved us some time by doing it myself."

Yuuri was still silent, like the calm before the storm. It sent Viktor's heart into a tattoo, but he wasn't afraid - in fact, it fascinated him. Yuuri scoured away the powder and the eyebrows and the red on his lips with light but firm motions. Bit by bit, Viktor's pale, translucent skin appeared under what, to Yuuri, was simply grime. His eyelashes were dense, fluttering as Yuuri dipped the cloth over his eyelids, down his cheeks and over his lips, which parted under Yuuri's touch. His mouth was plush, a pink that was still stubbornly tinged redder than it actually was. Yuuri looked away before he could bend to taste them. He held back by sheer force of will, trying to calm the roaring in his veins.

Next came the pins, Viktor's hand guiding Yuuri's which to gently pull out first, and bit by bit, the elaborate hairdo fell, leaving the stream of silver hair laying unruly down Viktor's back.

"Really," Viktor laughed, a little uncomfortably, as he tugged a hand through the ends of his tangled hair, "I could've-"

He cut himself off as Yuuri's hands drifted over Viktor's obi. Yuuri's elegant hands tugged the obi open, and he pulled off Viktor's outmost layer, leaving it pooled around his body. A glance told Viktor that the shy, awkward man had gone, only leaving the man of action, of absolute focus. Viktor clenched his hands beside him and chased away the heat that had coiled up his belly, to little avail. Yuuri de-robed him in am agonizingly slow fashion, each move deliberate, controlled but straining at the seams. The room was silent except for the rustling of the fabric and their breathing.

Finally, Viktor was laid bare in front of Yuuri, his garments scattered around him as he sat in the middle of the mess, patiently allowing Yuuri to stare at him. The gaze pricked him, hurtled at him like a glaring sun. He itched to hide himself, but he forced it away. He stretched his legs out in front of him, languidly elongating his body to make it an even more alluring display, his cock already hard.

Yuuri just stared at him, his eyes lingering over Viktor's shoulders and chest and thighs and legs, and his hand palmed at his crotch. Viktor said his name, impatience colouring his tone.

"Yuuri-sama." 

Yuuri tilted his head up. His eyes were black, dangerous, like a predator ready to pounce. Viktor fought back a low moan.

"Come here," he said sultrily, instead, ignoring how his voice trembled, "I don't want to wait anymore."

Without a warning, Yuuri touched his face and pushed him down onto the tatami mats. Their mouths met in a fierce collision.

"More," Viktor mumbled, as Yuuri's dark head moved down his body to suck a pink nipple into his mouth. Viktor cried out, shuddering, his body sensitive to this man's touch. He could feel the lower part of his stomach writhing with desire, hot, and Yuuri looked up. His hair was falling into his eyes, his pupils dilated. Some semblance of reason seemed to reassert itself in Yuuri's eyes, and he shook his head to clear them more.

"You mean it," he said hoarsely, and Viktor nodded.

"Of course," he said, a little petulantly, and Yuuri reached up a hand and pinned his wrists together. His grip was strong, and Viktor tried experimentally to move. When he found that he couldn't, he grew impossibly harder.

"What do you do to get such strength?" Viktor asked, his breathing short, as Yuuri let go of his hands and dragged him forward so his naked thighs rested on Yuuri's. His fingers hesitated on Viktor's hips.

"Do you have oil?" His voice was raspy with desire. 

"No, but I am loose." 

Yuuri didn't bother with replying; he pulled out the oil valve from his pocket. Viktor blinked in surprise.

"Ah, this is..."

Yuuri gave him a flat glance that silenced him. The image of Yuuri carefully dipping his finger into the oil bottle, rubbing it over his fingers, shadows elongating over his face was kept fresh in Viktor's mind after. But at that moment, all thought fled as Yuuri's fingers slid over Viktor's entrance. He kept his moan - he had some self-control, of course - but lifted his hips in silent demand for more...

Night treaded softly around them; it was particularly dark, as if to hold carefully the secrets of Viktor's room. Nothing disturbed them as their bodies entwined; candlelight flickered and wavered and then finally went out.

\---------

Yuuri knew he had to stop. He did, really, as he bent his head over Viktor's prone, but still faintly quivering body. The other man's eyes were closed, his breathing heavy, and he only made a faint whimpering sound as Yuuri licked a stripe over his puffy nipple. Viktor was so exhausted he could only lay there, in the middle of the soiled futon. The room smelt of sex and sweat. The sky was lightening at the fair horizon. But Yuuri couldn't stop. The savage beast inside him had been soothed, appeased and languid after the furious sex they'd had, but Yuuri felt like he was addicted to Viktor's skin, the smell of his sweat, his limbs, his thin, slender torso, the way his mouth had panted Yuuri's name and later, incomprehensible gibberish. He caught some words Viktor said in Russian - Yuuri was educated in three languages, after all - and it only served to make him more addicted to the sound of Viktor's voice curling desperately over his mother-tongue, asking for _more_ , _harder_ , _faster_. Yuuri pressed his nose at the base of Viktor's throat and inhaled, then bit where his neck met his throat, leaving a pink ring of teeth-marks that a regular kimono could only cover half of. Then he kissed down to his chest and stomach and pelvic bones, and then leaned up to curl against Viktor's chest, hearing the slow, sluggish _ba-thump_ of his heart. 

He should really stop.[1] 

\--------- 

Viktor blinked into the bright light hitting his eyes. His windows are open, his flowers fluttering in the light breeze. He was on his side, in a fresh yukata, the blanket covered up to his shoulders. He turned to his back, groaning a little as his body protested at the move.

He was deliciously sore. He can smell Yuuri where they'd rutted together the entire night, his musky scent that reminded Viktor of autumns, where he had left an inedible mark on his body. He trails his hands down his body, closes his eyes, and felt Yuuri's phantom hands trail all over his body. His mouth, harsh and biting. Viktor shuddered, and his cock gave a little twitch. Yuuri. Fierce. Beautiful, rough, dominating and chasing every other thought from his head. His body ached. He is laying across the floor like a damsel in distress. Ready to swoon. Yuuri's scent. Yuuri's touch, his sweat dripping against Viktor's skin. His rough, callused hands, leaving bruises across Viktor's thighs and hips. His tongue, wonderous and skilled, lapping against his sore hole when he had come for the third time that night, screaming Yuuri's name. Yuuri's gentle hands in his hair, hushing him as whines spilled from his throat, still shuddering from the aftermath of orgasm, a wave of pleasure pulsing through his body. Yuuri's lips on his. His fingers, pulling his hole open and fingering it, till his cum spilled out onto the futon. Yuuri holding him up by his thighs, forced against the wall, him pushing deep and sure into him, Viktor's head rolling back to hit against the wall. Yuuri taking him from behind, thrusting in deep, one hand fondling his nipples and the other gripping onto his hair and pulling, where pleasure had burst across his eyes and he came again, weak spurts and screaming like a cat in heat. Later, when Viktor's body was so exhausted and his mind wrecked from the endorphins, there was a little pain that only accented the brightness of gratification. Waves and waves of pleasure, which Viktor drowned from, even if some were only dim, hazy memories. He doesn't think he can get down from this. Yuuri had _damned_ him. Had made sure Viktor would always remember him, as if he had carved a space within him that only Yuuri can fill. Viktor cursed, but it sounded breathy from his mouth.

"Vitya, you brat. Get up."

"I am up." 

"You are _not_ up. You're undressed, laying across the floor like some wretched heathen." 

"...I am a heathen."

Lilia closed her eyes in exasperation, though Viktor knew there was reluctant fondness there, and gave her a grin as far as he could where he was laying down. She was standing in front of the sliding doors, arms crossed.

"Shibei-san is coming-"

"I don't want to see anyone today," Viktor told Lilia, when she came in and glared at him laying across the floor, barely covered up in his loose yukata. "I'm...down with a flu."

"A flu," Lilia said dryly. 

"It's coming, I can feel it," Viktor insisted.

Lilia clucked her tongue. "It is not beautiful to be sprawled all over the floor like this, Vitya." 

"I am always beautiful, Lilia," Viktor drawled, "that is why all the men come flocking to me." He paused. "All the women too."

"Take care of your heart, foolish boy," she told him, her eyes sweeping across him. "It is not wise to fall for one of your patrons. 

"Love," Viktor scoffed, even though his heart had thumped against his ribcage almost frustratedly, reminding him. "Love, she says."

"You know what I am talking about," she replied warningly. "There is no room for mooning like one of those heroines you like hear."

"I am not _mooning_ ; I only met him three times."

"If you say so," she said, her eyes piercing. "Be careful anyway." 

He shrugged, and blew Lilia a kiss as she exited the room, shaking her head. 

Love? Viktor turned the idea over his head. He likes Yuuri, enjoys his company, thinks him attractive, but some of Viktor's patrons are the same. He is perhaps different - perhaps a little - unsettling - but Viktor enjoyed interesting men, they fascinated him for a moment, a bright, flickering candle that burnt out too fast. Perhaps Yuuri would be the same. (Viktor ignored the niggling feeling that told him he was wrong. Katsuki Yuuri wasn't as banal as a candle, he was much more intense, not a tiny, naked flame, but a bright, burning fire that could utterly destruct, render everything into dirt and ash.) He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell that saturated him - he hadn't bathed yet - and shuddered a little, his hand resting on his stomach. He turned on his side, closed his eyes. He remembered Yuuri's face, his body heat, and curled into himself. "Stupid," he murmured, and fell asleep. 

He woke up when Yuri knocked aggressively at his door, wrinkling his nose up at him.

"You haven't _bathed_?" He screeched in Russian, "that's disgusting!"

Viktor sat up and tugged his hand through his hair. "You're annoying," he yawned. "What is it? I'm not seeing anyone today." 

"A parcel came for you," Yuri said shortly. He shoved it towards Viktor, who peered at it, at the neatly tied package, in a wave-patterned cloth.

"Who is it?" 

"A courier boy came by. It was for Hinako-san, but the note attached was for you. She said there were some good stuff inside."

Viktor unpacked the stacked boxes, and placed it in a whimsical circle around himself. There was a medicinal box, a bottle of oil, some food, and, at the very bottom, some oranges.

"Who can be so thoughtful?" Viktor asked idly, even as he happily rummaged through the box and placed a mochi into his mouth. "Delicious!"

"Who else can it be but that idiot?" Yuri scoffed, and he plucked a mochi from the box and ate too, ignoring Viktor's slap. 

"What a silly man," Viktor smiled, as he ran a finger over the gauze. The note was short, to the point, and addressed not to him [2], but Viktor traced his name written in Yuuri's neat, cautious hand, and kept it.

\------

Yuuri went again, on his regular day, but he was fretful, twisting his fingers together and hiding his face beneath his fringe and those wide glasses. Viktor sat opposite him, drinking in his fill of him, the way a little rain clung onto his hair, and the way his clothes are hid his body but hinted at its well-developed strength.

 "Yuuri-sama?" He asked, making his voice soft and liquid, as if talking to a spooked animal. "Good evening."

"Hello," he mumbled, and sneaked a peek at Viktor before looking down again. "Are you - fine?"

"I would be better if you would just look at me," Viktor sighed, and pouted. "I even wore my new kimono for you, and you find the floor more attractive than me."

"No," Yuuri protested, and he finally looked up, and then, as if unable to stop himself, stared intently at Viktor. His gaze sent pinpricks shuddering down Viktor's back, and Viktor hitched a coy smile onto his face. "I-um..."

"Cat got your tongue?" Viktor teased, as he shifts closer to Yuuri and puts their face close, gazing into Yuuri's caramel eyes. "Do you like it?"

Yuuri swayed, eyes dropping to Viktor's lips, and Viktor thinks he would bridge the gap to kiss him, but Yuuri pulled back, and rested his hands on Viktor's chest. 

"I- am sorry," he blurted out, and Viktor frowned.

"What are you sorry for?"

"The last time," he mumbled and he hid his face behind his hands. "I fear I might have gotten too out of hand...and hurt you."

Viktor threw his head back and laughed, and Yuuri looked at him with wide eyes.

"Yuuri-sama," he murmured, chuckling still, and Yuuri simply stared at him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't enjoy myself."

He swallowed. "But... you wouldn't wake up."

"That's how you know it was a good night," Viktor purrs, sliding his mouth along Yuuri's ear, "it felt so good, Yuuri." 

"Really?" Yuuri asked, face red, and he bit his lip and looked away from Viktor. "You're just saying...this is why you can't _say_ that sort of things and let me-"

"I don't just say these things without thinking," Viktor said calmly, and he took Yuuri's hands and looked at him, straight in the eye. "I know what I am doing."

Yuuri still looked unconvinced, but he turned his hands up and held onto Viktor's hands, brushing his lips over his knuckles. "Are you sure you are fine?"

"Of course," Viktor murmured back, "I thought about you, Yuuri."

Yuuri blushed harder, and he lifted his head and kissed Viktor tenderly on the forehead, a safe space. It made Viktor's insides go jittery and soft - an odd reaction, but Viktor resolutely ignored it.

"I've waited for you all these two weeks," Viktor continued, as he slid into Yuuri's lap, "I could only think of your hands, your mouth, you fucking me so hard, so good, Yuuri," he let out a shameless moan as he shifted on Yuuri's lap. Yuuri's eyes are blown wide and black, and Viktor sent him another coy smile. "Are you going to make me wait longer?"

With a strange sound - half-growl, half-moan, Yuuri presses Viktor down onto the floor and kissed his mouth fiercely, and then, almost reminding himself, slowed down, but kepy Viktor's hands pressed above him. 

"You'll...tell me when it hurts?"

"I won't break," Viktor said, amused. Yuuri waited, unmoving, until Viktor relented. "Fine."

Yuuri nipped his mouth, sighing softly, their bodies sliding together in a warm explosion of heat.

"Yuuri," Viktor moaned, raising his legs to wind around Yuuri's waist, rutting, not carrying that his kimono falls apart and exposed him. All he cared was pulling Yuuri closer, better against him.

 Yuuri tugged away his clothes in a fluid movement, and Viktor was pinned down onto the ground, gazing up at Yuuri who was smiling a little as he licked down Viktor's neck with the worship and tenderness, pausing to pay attention to the sensitive spot at the back of his ear and thumbing at his nipples. He spread Viktor's thighs wide, so wide he can feel the ache run through his thighs, and he whines, as Yuuri drank his fill of Viktor sprawled wanton and debauched against the red fabric.

"You're so-" Yuuri cut himself off with a moan and bent to crush their lips together. "You're so _beautiful_ , Viktor." He whispered, as if shy, as if the words were precious, as if uncovering a truth known only to him, his eyes bright and piercing, as if seeing past his flesh and bone and called his soul _beautiful_ : Viktor had heard it so many times before, but when Yuuri said it, he felt a jolt go through him at every sincerity that rang through his tone. He shut his eyes and struggled not to lift his hands to cover his face, which, he felt, was turning red.

"Hurry up," Viktor demanded instead, but it comes out from breathy than he expected. Yuuri slicked his fingers with oil, before cautiously pressing at his entrance.

"More," Viktor insisted, and Yuuri huffed out a soft laugh and kissed his hip. Strangely enough, the atmosphere between them was gentler, softer this time, the aggression lost. Yuuri's movements were slower this time, lacking an edge. While it felt good, Viktor also felt hopelessly bewildered and a little lost. Yuuri was surprising, and something inside Viktor jolted and shuddered with uneasiness.

"Patience," Yuuri was saying softly, eyes gleaming. Viktor choked and struggled, a whine tumbling out from his mouth as his fingers slid into him.

Yuuri pulled Viktor over him, their sweaty thighs sliding together and sat Viktor on his lap. His cock slapped wetly against Viktor's bum, and the now-familiar feeling sent another rise of heat stabbing through Viktor. He groaned and rutted against the velvety shaft.

"Come on," Yuuri murmured, as he tugged Viktor's hair away from his eyes and cupped his face. "Go on, Viktor."

He shook his head to get rid of the fog in his head - god, why does Yuuri end up taking control every single time, Viktor had to do something about this but for now - he reached behind him to grasp Yuuri's erection, the other hand balancing on Yuuri's shoulder, and sank down on his shaft. The stretch filled him, hot and insistent, and Viktor's eyes rolled at the back of his head as he gave a long, deliberate sigh. It turned into a choked gasp as Yuuri's hips canted upwards to shove himself all the way in, causing Viktor to sink his fingers into the meat of Yuuri's shoulders for balance. He buried his face into Yuuri's neck - it was _not_ because Yuuri smelt good, and savoured the full stretch and throbbing inside him. Yuuri sucked at his earlobe and another stuttered moan tumbled out of Viktor's mouth.

"Move," Yuuri muttered, his breath brushing over Viktor's ear, hot and wet, and Viktor's body responded to his command. He had never been in this position before, but he could feel Yuuri even deeper, he pressed his fingers against his lower belly and marveled at the fullness. And when he looked up again, Yuuri's eyes were searing, his hand branding his hip, his heat blazing all around Viktor, and Viktor thought, foolishly, _I want to keep him._

\--------

Viktor laid sated and loose beside Yuuri, on his stomach, dozing off. Yuuri had his hand in Viktor's hair again, softly combing through the strands, and bent to kiss his ear.

"Yuuri, why not you come more often?" Viktor muttered, after a moment of debating if he should ask directly. "You are free most nights, aren't you?"

Yuuri looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"You can come see me every week," Viktor turned onto his side and slid his hand up to rest it against Yuuri's chest, "I would like that."

Yuuri hesitated. He shook his head. "I think this is fine."

"But why? You don't want to see me?"

"It's not that," Yuuri said, his eyes averted. "I... just don't think it's a good idea."

Viktor pouted, and he turned away, his back facing Yuuri. Yuuri bent down and touched him between his shoulders, ignoring his half-hearted shrug. "Fine," he said, a little mulish. Something in him was unhappy, and Viktor was uncomfortably too close to feeling like a jilted, disappointed lover. 

"It's not that," Yuuri said gently, and Viktor felt him move closer. "if I could, I would want to see you every week, Viktor." 

Viktor ignored the jolt in his chest. He turned again, their faces extremely close to each other's, and curled his mouth into the sweetest smile he knew. "Then come every week."

"I know myself. If I come every week I would want to come every day," Yuuri told him, giving him a half-smile. "You wouldn't like that."

"How would you know I wouldn't like it?" Viktor asked, his voice soft, melting. He rested his fingers against Yuuri's smooth cheek, watching his eyes.

Yuuri just smiled at him, twirling a strand of Viktor's hair.

"I wouldn't mind it," Viktor hedged, "I might even like it."

Yuuri was quiet. "I was just wondering," he traced the shape of Viktor's brow, "why do you have a scar here?"

Startled, Viktor blinked at him. "What scar?"

"The one here," Yuuri said, thumbing at the arch of the brow, where there was a small, thin scar, only visible to the most attentive.

Viktor stiffened in an instant, then he passed it off with a laugh. "I was just trimming my eyebrow. A hand-slip..."

Yuuri's eyes looked into his own, and Viktor felt breath catch in his chest. He _knows_ , he knows, sees through Viktor, flung open wide. 

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he murmured after a moment of silence, a wan smile curling his lips. He pressed his lips onto Viktor's forehead, and tilted Viktor's face up to meet his eyes. "But don't lie to me."

Viktor swallowed, looked down, his embarrassment at getting caught turning into quick irritation. 

"I don't want to talk about it," he said defensively, and he turned his body away. He let Yuuri pull him back and cup his face, looking into his face concernedly. 

"That is fine," Yuuri hummed, "I'm sorry for prying."

He pulled Viktor closer by winding an arm around his waist, and rested a hand on the back of Viktor's head. Viktor resigned himself to the same cuddling with little reluctance. It was cold, and Yuuri was like a human furnace, comfortable and secure. Viktor was a little taken aback, unsteady from Yuuri's surprising observation.

"Are you upset with me?" Yuuri asked him, when it was clear that they were still very much awake. 

"No, I'm not."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing." 

Yuuri frowned. But he let it go, and tightened his arms around Viktor's body. "Do you want to hear a story?"

"What story? Is it one about you?"

"Why do you want to hear about me?" Yuuri asked, his voice holding a soft chuckle. "I'm not interesting."

"I want to know more about you."

Yuuri thought for a moment. "I'll tell you a secret..."

Viktor raised his head, anticipatory.

"Only if you tell me one too." 

Viktor's eyes widened. His mouth twisted. "If you don't want to tell me voluntarily..." 

"You want to know more about me, but I want to know more about you too, Viktor."

"I'm just a normal prostitute."

"No," Yuuri said, "you're Viktor."

"What does that even mean?" Viktor laughed.

"You're Viktor, just Viktor. Like a normal human. Your job doesn't matter."

"Oh, so sweet," Viktor trilled lightly, affecting a high-pitched, demurring voice.

Yuuri looked at him, serious and solid, and Viktor pursed his lip. He lowered his eyes, feeling strangely chastised.

"Really," Yuuri said, sincere and earnest, and Viktor hated him in that moment, for his naiveté, untouched by dirt. He suddenly wanted to pull a grey cloud over those clear, honest eyes. 

"I see," Viktor drawled, "then you should know I choose this _job_. I could've done something else, but I thought it was so _easy_. Men and women come to me looking for some kind of love and think they can satisfy themselves - and me - with their transparent games. It's so silly and stupid and they fall themselves over to please me, and I laugh at them because it is completely ridiculous and foolish."

"Perhaps," Yuuri agreed, and he was smiling. The look on his face was so surprising that Viktor was shocked out of his anger. "Are we not all just performing a role?" 

"Yourself too, then," Viktor reminded him, a little unkindly. 

Yuuri's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Yes, me too. Are you not?"

"I do not lie."

"But you hide."

Viktor sat up, lifting his chin imperiously. Yuuri followed suit, crossing his legs into a lotus position as he settled opposite Viktor. 

"I don't need my clients to know anything about me to have a good time. And no one is as nosy as you are." 

"Nosy, huh," Yuuri muttered to himself, and his eyes are terrifyingly discerning, holding some sort of fierce emotion. "It's because you're not an object to me, Viktor." 

"Foolish," Viktor said, wanting to sound sharp, but his voice came out reluctantly fond. "If you think that, you're going to be in trouble."

"Am I not already?" Yuuri said quietly, his smile wry. His finger traced Viktor's eyebrow again, and thumbed at the scar.

Viktor's ears filled with white noise, as he stared at Yuuri. Did he mean what Viktor thought he meant? His heartbeat thudded loud, thundering in his ear, and a bellow of heat - not lust, but something unfamiliar, travelled up his stomach to his chest.

"You're an imprudent man," Viktor whispered, and their eyes met. Yuuri was still wearing a half, self-deprecating smile. Viktor leaned in and let the secret tumble out into his mouth, like a small, desperate riddle that Viktor didn't want to know the answer to. 

"I fell down some stairs when I was four," he said, resting his head against Yuuri's chest, closing his eyes. "I didn't realise I had scraped my forehead and went around running everywhere and scaring the maids with the blood leaking down my face." 

Yuuri gave a huff of a laughter and then pulled Viktor's face up to kiss his lips. His joy was palpable, all because a stupid little story Viktor told him - which could have been a goddamn lie - and it made the jittery feeling crawl up his chest again. 

"You must have been an adorable child."

"The cutest," Viktor agreed grandly.

Yuuri laughed aloud, and rested his hand on the back of Viktor's head.

"Now you tell me a secret." 

"Hmm."

"Something you've never told anyone before."

Yuuri was silent for a long time, and Viktor raised his hand to cup Yuuri's face, looking at him. "What is it?" He asked.

Yuuri rested his own hand over Viktor's. He turned his face into his palm, and took a deep, deep breath. Then he looked into Viktor's eyes. 

"I like men," he said, his voice wavering a little.

It was just three words ( _and it wasn't even I like you_ , Viktor thought), but it socked Viktor in the gut. Then, his lips curled, and he bent forward to kiss Yuuri as a reward. Viktor felt, in an instant, proud of Yuuri, and also smug, for drawing this sort of admission from the man.

They laid back down on the futon, Yuuri resting his head on Viktor's chest, their hands laced together tightly over Viktor's heart. They didn't talk, but sleep came late to them.

And Viktor dreamt that night, of cool spring days and the sweet scent of the breeze, his mother's soothing voice and the feel of her hand, gentle and reassuring against his forehead. He dreamt, in flashes, of white marbled stairs and mahogany banisters, and chandeliers, and waltzes, and smooth, ironed white shirts and wool vests and comfortable leather shoes.

When he woke, he was alone, and homesick.

\------- 

random notes:

[1] STAMINA MONSTER YUURI!!

[2] love notes are codifications of courtship in pre-modern/modern japan, but Yuuri isn't actually writing these notes to Viktor, being cautious, and afraid. even if Viktor thought it was old-fashioned and cheesy and above all, useless in stirring up feelings, Viktor would like one from Yuuri, his name written in his script, words of love which Yuuri had agonised over and written and re-written; in other words, he'd liked a piece of evidence that he had taken up the entire space in Yuuri's head as much as Yuuri had in his. (even if Viktor denied this and insisted that he only wanted to laugh at what cheesy lines were written.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been longer than i expected... but i hope you enjoyed it! :) as usual, thanks for reading, commenting and giving this work kudos!


	5. in my end is my beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's... been a while. 
> 
> thank you ballyuselessnonsense for beta'ing this for me :') 
> 
> title from t.s eliot's "east coker" from four quartets

_Come this week._

Viktor fingered the note thoughtfully, tracing his careful words, and then crumpled it in his hand. _Silly_ , he chastised himself; this yearning to see that man is ridiculous, and a little terrifying. Yuuri was burning up the space in his brain, and he was thinking of him constantly, nowadays. When he had other clients within the two weeks Yuuri didn't come to him, Viktor always had to try a little harder than he usually did to concentrate on the here-and-now; on the unattractive, boring clients, on faking pleasure.

But Viktor was very good at self-deception. He told himself he only wanted to see Yuuri because the man was laughably easy to tease, and so very transparent. That Yuuri was so wrapped around his finger, like a puppet that Viktor could freely manipulate. He was an entertaining diversion, that was all.

He refused to think about Yuuri's dark eyes, his curled smile and sharp gaze that made Viktor shiver. How he made Viktor feel shy, purified in his presence or how Yuuri made him say things he didn't mean to.  He certainly didn’t think about the way Yuuri made Viktor remember things he would prefer to forget, but instead made Viktor feel comforted and warm and light at once.

"Just send him the goddamn note."

"Who?" Viktor said innocently, falling into his mother-tongue  naturally, as easy as breathing.

"The pig."

"Why do you call him that?" Viktor asked idly, and Yuri scowled.

"He called me _Yurio_ because he said our names sounded too similar, so I'm calling him _pig_."

"You're calling him _bu-ta?_ " Viktor pronounced the term carefully in Japanese.

"No, I'm calling him _svin'ya_ ," Yuri replied, and Viktor sat up quickly.

"What?"

"You heard me," Yuri said, rolling his eyes.

"But he won't understand you-"

"He does," Yuri frowned, turning from where he was folding the futon into a neat pile.

" _What_?"

Yuri blinked at him. "I thought you knew."

"I didn't," Viktor said shortly. "Why are you speaking to him in Russian?"

Yuri shrugged. "Easier. The pig's pretty good at it." [1]

"Don't do that," Viktor said sharply, "talk to him in Japanese. This is Japan."

Yuri narrowed his eyes at him, hackles bristling. "I don't need you to tell me what I can or cannot do."

"It'll do you good to practise your Japanese; your accent’s atrocious. Don't be complacent."

"You're the complacent one," Yuri retorted. "Do you think he'd keep coming here just because you sent him a coy letter? Because of _you_?"

Viktor glared at Yuri, the question hanging uncomfortably heavy between them. "He's infatuated with me," Viktor said plainly.

" _Infatuated_ implies it's only temporary, no? He's from a good family. He will get married. And what will happen to you then?"

"I'm _not_ the same as him; I'm hardly in love with him, _Yurio_. You're being absurd," Viktor laughed, but the sound is cold and sharp. "I can cast him aside before he can do that to me."

"If you say so," Yuri said, his green eyes gleaming dangerously, looking a little too triumphant. Yuri gathered the sheets in his arms and threw a look at him, before leaving without a backward glance. Viktor inhaled deeply, and exhaled, releasing the rage bubbling in his chest.

"You're wrong," he said, to thin air. "I'll be absolutely fine without him."

\-----

Yuuri was running his fingers over Viktor's fussy, ostentatious kimono, touching the satin purple sash and the colourful embroidery stitched on the deep purple fabric.

"Isn't it heavy?" He asked idly, caressing the white camellias along Viktor's shoulder.

"I'm used to it," Viktor hummed with a smile. He had a sudden idea, and he stepped closer to Yuuri and ran his fingers down Yuuri's cheek. "Do you want to wear one?"

Yuuri's surprised eyes met his, and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. "I mean... if you don't mind."

"No, not at all." Viktor could already imagine Yuuri in his dark blue furisode [2], the one that lightened to white along his shoulders, with lotuses decorating the bottom half. He called a servant to bring him the kimono he was talking about, along with a light blue sash and his makeup.

He made Yuuri strip, then carefully dressed him. His fingers lingered over Yuuri’s skin. Every movement was deliberate, infused with some mounting, sensual tension. When Viktor painted Yuuri's mouth with pink rouge, Yuuri's breath caressed his fingers and made Viktor's own breath short.

"All done," Viktor muttered, his voice lower, warmer, as he put down his brush.

The robes fell around Yuuri's body fetchingly, and he looked like the very epitome of a blushing bride, unaware of his own grace. Viktor swallowed hard. He stared, admiring how the kimono enfolded him, like a lover’s embrace, the colour setting off the tan of his skin beautifully. It was a pity Yuuri could only scrutinise his own face with the mirror Viktor gave him, when it was the clothes that made him look exceedingly desirable, and the way his eyes dipped down shyly, his shoulders hunching into himself. If his hair was long, Yuuri would easily pass off as a woman, and a lovely one at that, Viktor thought, a little surprised at how good Yuuri looked. That thought made him swallow the saliva that welled in his mouth. Yuuri passed the mirror back to Viktor and covered his painted face with his hands, bright red.

"Don't stare at me," he mumbled, "I'm going to take it off-"

"No," Viktor said, his voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat. "You look- good."

Yuuri flushed harder. His face was still hidden. He mumbled something. Viktor stood closer, taking his elbows.

"What?"

"Wear mine," he said in a rush, lifting his head and huffing at Viktor. "I don't want to be wearing the same thing as you when you look-" he flapped a hand at Viktor like it explained everything. Viktor laughed. He dropped his robes without shame, and picked up Yuuri's discarded uniform.

He felt as if he had to stand straighter, and lift his head. He can see Yuuri swallow hard, his eyes following the lean line of Viktor's body in his uniform. Viktor scrutinised Yuuri in his kimono, and felt a rush of inexplicable triumph inside him. He was wearing Yuuri's clothes and Yuuri was wearing his, and he felt like they traded lives, traded bodies. He could smell Yuuri's scent all around him. Their skin was touching where the other's skin had touched before. Viktor thought, suddenly, the skin that separated their bodies had disappeared, they had fused together, two beings in a single body. He was Yuuri and Yuuri was him. And that thought terrified him as much as it enthralled him, ecstasy hitting him hard, like a sock in the gut. The implications of such pleasure was nearly too painful to dwell on, with Yuuri so close. He couldn't breathe, and Yuuri's fingers resting against the fabric covering his chest sent a tingle zinging through his body. Yuuri's eyes: dark, arresting, like a hole Viktor could fall into and never escape.

"You look good," Yuuri was murmuring, as he traced the buttons on his uniform. "Why do you always look so good?"

"Your pants are a little too short for me," Viktor pointed out, trying to regain his bearings. "And the shoulders are a little too loose on me."

"But you still look beautiful," Yuuri said earnestly, and he straightened the jacket for Viktor.

Viktor gripped his hand where it rested on his chest. "Beautiful is not a word you should use to address your male clients," Viktor told Yuuri. Yuuri frowned a little in confusion, then, as his eyes travelled from Viktor's uniformed figure and to his own clothes, his eyes cleared.

"Come sit on the futon with me," Viktor said, his voice firmer, a little more authoritative. Yuuri's eyes darkened further, and for a brief moment, when Yuuri didn't move, Viktor wondered if he went too far.

Instead, a flush travelled down Yuuri's neck and he let Viktor lead him to the futon.

"I," he cleared his throat, "please be gentle with me," he mumbled, looking up into Viktor's face. Viktor nearly choked on air. Yuuri shifted closer, until he was half-sitting on Viktor's lap. "What would you like me to do?"

"Anything you want," Viktor replied, watching Yuuri, curious about what action he would take next. Heat curled up his belly, and he felt dizzy, drunk on Yuuri, on his surprises.

Yuuri bit his lip, rocked back, and then kissed down his throat. His fingers fumbled on the buttons of Viktor's shirt, and he flung the jacket and shirt aside in moments. He traced a long line of heat with a light finger across Viktor's bare torso, lightly dipping his finger into Viktor's belly button and earning himself a yelp.

"Tease," Viktor murmured, warningly. He reached forward to grip Yuuri's hand before he could go further. Something had come over him, ever since he saw Yuuri in his clothes and worn Yuuri's uniform. Something that made him act more dominant, more aggressive, and it was so easy, suddenly, to state his desires openly. He pushed Yuuri down onto the futon and hovered over him, pinning his hands beside his head. It was a different sight, Yuuri's hair splayed out and looking helpless and uncertain. Blood seemed to rush to Viktor's head, and he bit back his moan before bending down to crush their lips together furiously. (When Viktor looked back, he would be surprised at the force and boldness of his move. He was used to be the one in control, who was doing the seducing, but Yuuri somehow managed to pull the carpet from under him, and turn everything on its head.)

"What do you want?" Viktor whispered against Yuuri's chest. "I'll give it to you." He ran his fingers over Yuuri's stomach and fisted his erection through the folds of the fabric. "Do you want me here?"

Yuuri pushed him up and turned his back onto Viktor. And then he did something utterly, completely bewildering: he pulled up the open bottom of the kimono, hiked it up over his waist.

"Viktor, please," Yuuri whispered, his voice thrumming with desire. His eyes were bright and he turned to look at Viktor, his hand moving to pull apart one cheek, the fabric doing little to obscure the pink furl between his cheeks. It was obscene. Yuuri was nearly melting to the floor as his hole twitched under Viktor's gaze. "I want- want you _inside_. Fill me, please."

Viktor's mind short-circuited. _He can't, he won't, I'm not the one who should- he's a client, a soldier-_ In Viktor's silence, Yuuri grew anxious, dropping his hand as he made to pull down the fabric over his bum. But Viktor stopped him, and bent his body over Yuuri's.

"You - you _minx_ ," he accused, his mouth at Yuuri's ear, his front brushing along Yuuri's still covered back, "you want me to..."

"Yes," Yuuri whispered, turning his face so his cheek brushed Viktor's in a soft explosion of warmth, "if you want."

"I'll be careful," Viktor said, trying viciously to be slow, to be gentle, to reassure. "I'll be gentle."

"I trust you." Three simple words, and Viktor felt the sudden, odd shudder of his chest.

He wanted to burst into a fierce _are you sure?_ But he stopped himself and turned Yuuri over to kiss, reaching for his flagging erection and coaxing it back to full hardness again. "Where is the oil?"

"Jacket pocket."

After some quick fumbling, Viktor put the oil at an accessible spot and turned Yuuri onto his hands and knees again. He pulled apart Yuuri's cheeks, hungrily eyeing the pink furl, which twitched under his gaze. Letting instincts urge him, Viktor pressed his face between Yuuri's cheeks and licked.

The sound Yuuri made was ridiculously sinful, and it prompted Viktor to lick harder, frustrated and wanting more. He pulled back as Yuuri nearly collapsed onto the mats if not for Viktor's sure hands holding his hips up, and Viktor undid the sash, allowing the garments to fall open.

"Viktor," Yuuri groaned, his face dazed and his mouth ruby-red.

"You're sure," he murmured, as he pulled away again and slid his finger around Yuuri's hole, and Yuuri nodded. He shifted, turning to face Viktor. He wrapped his arms around Viktor's neck and buried his face into Viktor's neck.

"Like this," he murmured, straddling Viktor's thighs and lifting his hips to allow Viktor to slide his fingers into him. He gave a soft _oh_ when Viktor's finger dipped inside him, and his arms tightened around Viktor's neck. Viktor slid his other hand up the side of Yuuri's body under the kimono, caressing the soft skin, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri's nipple and earning a soft gasp, the tissue hardening at his circular motions.

"You're alright," Viktor murmured, trying to keep his voice gentle, "relax for me."

Slowly, Yuuri relaxed enough so that Viktor can work three fingers into him, and his hips are pushing back, a soft whine in his throat.

"You're so good," Viktor told Yuuri, mouthing along his collarbone. He pushed Yuuri back to lie flat onto the floor. Yuuri's eyes were black, his mouth half-open, panting. He looked utterly debauched, and utterly delicious. Viktor shut his eyes to prevent the entire sequence of events from overwhelming him, clinging onto his self-control. Viktor rubbed his erection with more oil, raking his eyes over Yuuri half-boneless, shaking on his futon, his kimono rumpled, slipping off his shoulders lewdly. The image seared itself into his mind. "Relax."

Yuuri looked back at him, and raised himself onto his elbows. One hand reached for Viktor, and then Yuuri was pressing his face against Viktor's chest. He was quivering, just a little. Viktor shoved away the lust and tried to focus.

"Yuuri? Can I..." Viktor swallowed, "can I continue?"

"Yes," Yuuri whispered, and he let Viktor push him down again, crawling over him.

"It'll feel good in a while," Viktor promised. He gave Yuuri a half-smile, "I'm an expert, you know."

Yuuri touched his cheek with his hot hand. "I know," he replied, and raised his hip. "Go on." Focusing on Yuuri's face, Viktor slowly pressed himself in; he was engulfed in tight heat, clenching and twitching around him and trying to force him out. Viktor shut his eyes again, and breathed harshly. The need to move was screaming at him, and he could feel his sweat trickling down his face and his back. Pleasure was threatening to drown him, and unable to help himself, he thrust his hips. Yuuri cried out, a sound of pain, and Viktor used it to ground himself. He cupped Yuuri's face and stared into his dark, abyss-like eyes.

"Relax," Viktor whispered. He moved his hand down to press against Yuuri's lower belly, rubbing it comfortingly. The other hand found Yuuri's hand and laced their fingers together. "Trust me." Bit by bit, Yuuri's taut body relaxed.

Viktor pulled himself flush against his bum. He started with the shallow thrusts, one hand working on Yuuri's flagging erection. Everything went into a sort of a blur, a daze, where Yuuri was hot and writhing and wonderfully responsive, and the heat went into Viktor's head and took everything out except the need for chasing that elusive bright spark of perfect pleasure.

"Viktor!" Yuuri's voice was twisted, desperate, a little unfamiliar, but he'd tightened around Viktor when he said his name, and his face - twisted up in imploring, erotic need - forced Viktor to come so hard he blacked out for an instant, drifting away in the aftermath of intense pleasure. He came to when Yuuri make a protesting sound, wriggling under him. Viktor kissed his forehead then rolled away, taking a moment to compose himself before turning back to look at Yuuri.

He found the other man sitting up, looking in dismay at the now wrecked kimono, stained with streaks of white.

"I'm sorry..."

Viktor chuckled and pulled it off, leaving it tossed in the corner.

"Don't worry about it," he told Yuuri, tugging him closer and kicking the futon away. "I'll get it washed."

Yuuri went quiet, his finger tracing a random pattern on the skin of Viktor's chest. He burrowed closer. His breathing was loud, and a little strained. Viktor pulled him closer, unsure why Yuuri seemed a little tense.

"Yuuri....?"

"I didn't know it would feel so good," Yuuri muttered. When the statement registered in Viktor's brain, Viktor jolted in shock.

"What? You mean... that- your first time?"

Yuuri hesitated, then nodded.

"Really?"

He nodded again, and Viktor cursed aloud in Russian. "Unbelievable," he said.

Yuuri frowned at him, sitting up. He had the pillow on his lap, and he tugged the blanket over his head to form a hood. "What is it?"

"Why did you give your first time to me?" Viktor asked, uncomfortable.

Yuuri pursed his lip. "It just felt... right. Is that not okay?"

"No, it is just..."

"No one else felt right," Yuuri mumbled, "I didn't want... I didn't want to do it before..."

"What if you... regret that-"

"I won't," Yuuri said immediately, his voice firm. His eyes were clear, and Viktor knew that Yuuri meant what he said.

Viktor, surprised, pressed his hand to his chest. How odd, the way Yuuri made his heart race, as if Viktor was a virginal schoolgirl talking to her crush.

"Viktor?" Yuuri cocked his head at him, like a ridiculous kitten.

"You are an odd person," Viktor said. Yuuri moved closer to Viktor, the blanket sliding off his head as he rested his head on Viktor's lap.

"It's not odd," Yuuri murmured softly. "You know more about me than anyone else and you haven't chased me away."

"Hmm. Were you always chased away, or you just didn't let anyone close?"

Yuuri was quiet, turning the words in his head, and Viktor gently rested his head on Yuuri's head. "I did, before," Yuuri muttered finally.

"Hmm?"

"Let someone close."

"Who was it?"

Yuuri went silent. Viktor waited, and was rewarded for his patience.

"There was a boy... His name is Kosuke... Ueda Kosuke."

Viktor nodded, curling his hand around Yuuri's ear.

"We were in the same unit. I'm not very good at making friends, you see, so I was always alone. But Kosuke-kun, he...was friendly to me. Kind. We always ate together at military school, so that I wouldn't be alone."

Yuuri was silent again, and Viktor gently caressed his head. Providing a little comfort. He could sense that Yuuri was struggling with something, so he was contented to wait.

"It wasn't long before I started liking him," he sighed finally. "And I thought he...liked me too." He exhaled, heavily, and Viktor felt a tightness across his chest and tried to keep his breathing smooth. He doesn't like where this was going.

"I told him. He laughed at me and called me names and told me he was just pitying me and told the rest of the unit." Yuuri's voice went flat, like he was simply reciting facts that he already knew. Yuuri rolled off Viktor's lap turned onto his back, raised his other hand up, to the ceiling, and stared at the back of it. "I could hear them whispering behind my back. They threw things at me, rocks, sticks, food... Then one day, a group of them decided that it would be fun to...scare me." He said the word carefully, and Viktor immediately knew he was using an understatement.

"They beat you up?"

"Hmm," Yuuri mumbled, and Viktor tilted his head up, so their eyes met.

"But you're good at fighting right?"

Yuuri dropped his eyes and sat up, fussing with the edge of the blanket. "Well, yes."

"So you beat all of them up?"

"Well..."

"What is it?"

"I... um..." Yuuri bit his lip, "I deserved it," he muttered, "or I thought I did..."

"So you didn't stop them," Viktor said, horror creeping up his chest and his throat, suffocating him. Yuuri gave him half a smile and gently took his hand to rest against his cheek.

"I did," he sighed, "they took it too far... tried to touch me, so I snapped."

" _Touch you_ ? You mean tried to _rape you_?"

"I mean... it didn't go that far. I stopped them."

"I see." Viktor breathed easier, and ran his thumb across Yuuri's cheek. He briefly wondered what made him panic. Was it _concern_? Viktor scoffed at himself and swatted the thought away like he would a fly. "Did you want to kill all of them?"

Yuuri clenched his hand into a fist, then his brown eyes peeked out to catch Viktor's, then he looked away. "Yes," he mumbled quietly. "I did."

Viktor finger-combed his hair, pensive, and then he scooted down, winding his arms around Yuuri, and tucking his head into his neck and letting Yuuri exhale his pain against his skin.

"That is fine," he muttered, "I would have wanted to, too. And you were protecting yourself, that is all."

"I didn't stop," Yuuri whispered, his voice strained, his fingers digging into Viktor's shoulders. "There was so much blood."

"Shh," Viktor hushed, pressing kisses onto his hair. "At least they're not dead."

Yuuri raised his head and he chuckled a little, softly "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Viktor shrugged. "Like I said, I find no problems with self-defense, overt or not. And I think they deserved it — no, even if you killed them, they shouldn't be able to complain about it, since they started it."

Yuuri thought about it, then he shrugged and nuzzled closer. He pushed Viktor down onto the ground and wound his arms around Viktor's body. "I'll have to think about it."

Foolish - foolishly, Viktor pulled Yuuri closer and hoped to crawl into Yuuri's body, past his flesh and bone, and into his damaged soul and press the cracks shut with his own hands. He felt for him some emotion he was a little afraid of, but he couldn't help but want to touch him softly and with care. _You've suffered_ , he thought, thinking about his dark, melancholic eyes, _but it is alright now, I swear it_.  

"Thank you for telling me," he whispered, muffled in Yuuri's hair. The man pressed even closer.

"Viktor," Yuuri muttered, "won't you tell me about Russia?"

Viktor sighed, and wondered if he should simply say something generic, something anyone could say about his home country.  It has been years, and he tried so hard forget his past, and where he was from, where everything had begun but had also ended.

"I have no happy stories about there, now," Viktor whispered, "everything is a little tinged with... unhappiness. I'm sure you don't want to hear it."

"I do," Yuuri said, his breath caressing Viktor's throat. "Unless you do not wish to tell me?"

Viktor was silent for a while, Yuuri waiting patiently in his arms.

"It was always cold," Viktor said finally, "You know... that chilly sting you feel early in the morning when you pull back the covers?" he chuckled dully. "It's so comfortable and warm here that I can no longer imagine feeling cold like that. The skies here are not as bright as there, too... and some days the glare is so strong that you can't even open your eyes when you're walking down the street. The expanse of the sea there stretches for miles, and you can't even see where it ends, it was a wide, glittering mass of water with sea gulls crying overhead. I haven't seen the sea in so long... and I miss it." Viktor paused for a long while. The words seemed determined to tumble out from his mouth like desperate riddles that wanted to be solved, and he bit them back for a brief moment before exhaling them again. "We had chandeliers and mahogany tables and banisters," he continued, "I wore silk socks and wool pants." _Not_ , Viktor didn't say, _this long, flowing garment which is all I wear nowadays._ The bittersweet nostalgia coated his mouth and made him want to slam his defenses down, but as he exhaled another breath and looked down, Yuuri's eyes were understanding and gentle, and it eased the ache away. Viktor relaxed as he felt Yuuri's hand rub circles on his back.

"It sounds like a wonderful place," Yuuri murmured, and Viktor felt his lips touch the corner of his mouth, a tiny comfort, perhaps a prayer. "Thank you for telling me."

_Don't_ , Viktor thought, _don't thank me when I just told you some random_ _things about my home country, the country that no longer wanted me, that took my parents, that forced me here..._

The sweet scent of camellias wafted through the dark, and tasted like grief and hope on Viktor’s tongue. Both of them were pressed so tightly together it was difficult to separate where one begun and the other ended; as if only by fusing their bodies together would they finally be allowed to heal.

\-----

  
And Viktor fell harder. Every bi-weekly meeting with Yuuri was the only thing he looked forward to. But he dismissed these feelings, pushed them below the surface of his consciousness, assured himself that he still had the upper hand. He deliberately refused to realise that Yuuri had a way of getting under his skin, of making him spill his guts then gently stitching him back together with soft, warm touches and tender eyes. Like Yuuri had the power to purge him of the cancer that had sunk into his bones, and made him feel alright again, less trapped.  
  
Yuuri was running his fingers along the contours of Viktor's pale face, tracing the line of his nose and his cheekbones, caressing his his eyelids and eyebrows. They were boneless in the aftermath of their rigorous activity. Viktor was curled on his side, facing Yuuri, so close to him that he could feel his breath on his lips.  
  
"You look so aristocratic," Yuuri murmured, and Viktor's eyes flicked open to look at him.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You look like a prince," Yuuri told him, smiling guiltlessly as he rested his fingers against Viktor's neck. "The first time I met you, I thought you were a fairy prince."  
  
Viktor laughed, feeling a little shy, a little bewildered. "I'll be a prince for you then, if you want me to. Shall I speak haughtily?"  
  
"No," Yuuri said, leaning closer, and he placed his head beside Viktor's face, running his hand down his arm so he laced their fingers together. "I want you to tell me a story." He raised his eyes up to meet Viktor's, eyes arresting.    
  
"About?"  
  
"A prince. Someone like you." Viktor heard the implicit questions, and he closed his eyes.  
  
"I don't know a lot of stories," he said quietly.  
  
"Any is fine."  
  
"My stories aren't happy, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And you still want to hear them?"  
  
"I want to hear everything about you."  
  
Viktor's throat tightened for a moment, and he felt the tears prick the corners of his eyes, but he didn't know whether it was from frustration or bitter-sweetness.

  
Then he took a deep breath and reached for Yuuri's hand, lacing their fingers together.  He felt Yuuri squeeze back gently, and let his warmth bleed into him, comforting. He closed his eyes, and with some difficulty, dug out the memories he'd already buried.

\-------

There was a silver-headed boy who grew up in an extravagant, charming manor, with luscious trappings and gorgeous grounds. The manor was called the Lindenbaum Manor [3]. Lime trees lined the path up to the entrance, and the scent in summer, was sweet and fragrant.  
  
The boy loved to run through the house, to the housekeeper's displeasure. He loved to look into the different rooms, each decorated by different people, famous artists. There were rooms with domed ceilings, with wide windows and curtains of multi-coloured silk, carpets of plush, red wool, parquet walls of rare and imported wood. A room for dancing, filled with diamond chandeliers and mirrors gilded in gold, a room for learning the piano, bright and airy with white chiffon curtains and beautifully painted walls. 

  
But the boy loved the outside most. You see, in front of the manor, in front of its massive white marble steps, and giant pillars, was a lake. In summer, the boy would swim in the water while his mother watched in the shade, under her favourite blue parasol, in a summer dress of blue and white. He would climb the trees, scraping his hands and his knees, eating ice popsicles that melted rapidly into a sticky mess. In winter, the boy would skate on its frozen surface, in the skates his father bought for him on his tenth birthday. It was his favourite pastime. Ice skating came to him as naturally as breathing, and he would skate until his nose was red and running, shivering from the cold wind but feeling so free and so unfettered, as if he could fly off the earth with just his skates alone...  
  
It was a childhood full of freedom and luxury taken for granted. The boy never thought that his life would shatter easily into pieces, certain that he would continue living in the manor, with the life he'd always known.  
  
But when the boy was fifteen, the enemies came for them, and broke their lives into pieces [4]. It was late at night when the news came, when the enemies had killed one of the boy's own. The boy remembered the burning, flickering flame of the candlelight when his mother came to wake him, holding him tightly against her chest. She was shaking, just a little, but her voice was still steady, soothing. She made him pack, dress in his travel clothes, and his father came to kiss his head and assure him that everything was fine.  
  
It wasn't.  
  
They killed his father. So he and his mother ran. They left behind their beautiful manor, their lake, their servants, only carrying a bag of food and the clothes on their back, and a loyal guard. They were pursued. They managed to reach the boat that would ferry them away, but the men had already caught up. The guard fended them off the best he could, but it was clear that he was faltering. His mother shoved him onto the boat, demanded the ferryman to move, and then kissed his forehead... she smiled though her eyes were full of tears, and turned to face the loud voice and red eyes, dancing and flickering in the dark, her figure becoming smaller and smaller and smaller, and falling onto the ground as the boy was carried further and further across the dark waters... the ferryman didn't stop, no matter how much the boy screamed, or hit him, or cried.  
  
He was brought to a foreign land, a land drastically different from his own, half-mad with grief, dirty and starving but determined to live. And he is still alive, living, perhaps, a little less extravagantly, a little less happy, than he was before...

\------

  
Viktor paused, keeping his eyes on the dark, shadowy ceiling, and felt Yuuri stare at him, his gaze piercing. He turned and smiled, though he didn't meet Yuuri's eyes.  
  
Yuuri reached up and curled on Viktor's chest. "Viktor," he whispered, "that's such a sad story."  
  
"I told you," Viktor said, the smile still hanging on his lips, "I don't know any happy ones."  
  
"Then shall I tell you a happy one?"  
  
Viktor turned, so he rested his head on Yuuri's chest. The sunshine warmth that Yuuri radiated chased the ghosts away, a little, and he sunk a little gratefully into the soothing heat. "Yes," he whispered, and pressed his lips against Yuuri's chin. "Please."  
  
As Yuuri started a story about a girl and a rabbit with a watch and talking animals [5], Viktor looked up at him, at how he was holding Viktor tenderly, like Viktor was a precious treasure, at his malleable mouth and expressive eyes. Viktor's heart had squeezed in his chest so hard he choked, and then, the realisation unearthed itself from where he had been determinedly buried it and hit him like a carriage. 

The panic crawled up his throat. 

\------

nerd notes:

[1] In Meiji Period, young boys were sent to be educated in different languages, usually overseas. The idea was that they could come back educated and help with nation-building. But Yuuri is entirely home-schooled.

[2] Furisode (振袖) literally means "swinging sleeves", and is usually worn by young unmarried women, particularly for Coming of Age day as a signal for their availability for marriage. Fabric designs become demarcated for men/ women in the 19th century, and by the 20th century furisode was only for women. Not that gender really matters for Yuuri or Viktor.

[3] Inspired by [The Chinese Palace](http://www.saint-petersburg.com/lomonosov/chinese-palace/) in Oranienbaum, St Petersburg.

[4] On March 13, 1881, members of the revolutionary "People's Will" group assassinated Tsar Alexander II and murdered officials. Viktor's family would be considered, at that time, aristocracy.

[5] Three guesses to the story Yuuri was telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed it; i appreciate all comments/ kudos!!!! :)


	6. fall like ripe fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from jeanette winterson's written on the body: "we will fall like ripe fruit and roll down the grass together. dear friend, let me lie beside you watching the clouds until the earth covers us and we are gone.”

"I hate it," Viktor said, already on his 5th bottle of sake, his cheeks slightly flushed, "I really hate him."   
  
"Right," Mila laughed at him, sipping her own cup gracefully. They were both dressed loosely in yukatas after a bath, sprawled across Viktor's room.   
  
"He's inexperienced, he doesn't even know how to flirt, and he's always making me talk to him. Ugh."   
  
"I heard you danced for him?"   
  
Viktor met her piercing, smirking eyes. "He asked."   
  
"But you always manage to worm your way out of it, no? You haven't danced in years."   
  
Viktor drained his drink, then laid his head on the table. He was slightly tipsy, warm and tired out and vaguely happy.   
  
He sighed heavily. "I was too tired to worm my way out of it this time. And he is easily pleased. I just have to flap my sleeves at him and he'll be happy."   
  
"If you say so," Mila said patronizingly, smiling at him in an indulgent way, and Viktor narrowed his eyes at her.   
  
"What."   
  
"Nothing!"   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"I'm just saying that you never talk about a client more than once, you never dance for any of them unless Lilia makes you, or if they pay a ridiculous amount, and you never said you hate any of them before. Why is this one so different?"   
  
"Because he is," Viktor said petulantly, "he's... he's not like the others. He's... nice. Soft. What a dummy."   
  
"I don't think he's the only dummy here, Viktor."   
  
"Shut up," Viktor muttered into his cup, catching Mila's drift completely.   
  
"But we've been in this goldfish bowl for so long, it's nice to find your own goldfish, right?"   
  
Viktor huffed. "What a tasteless analogy. "   
  
"To be honest, I think Yuri and Otabek have taken a liking to him, too," she continued thoughtfully, "hey, Viktor, why not you lend him to me for one day?"   
  
Viktor shot Mila a hard glare that got her laughing and raising her hands. "I was only joking. Calm down."   
  
"He doesn't like women," Viktor said shortly, and he poured himself another cup of sake.   
  
"Shame," Mila returned, but her smile said otherwise.   
  
They drank in silence, until Viktor crawled over to her and thunked his head on her lap.   
  
"Mila," he said quietly, "I'm terrified."   
  
"Of? Of him?"   
  
Viktor nodded, hugging his legs to his chest.   
  
Mila's fingers sunk into his hair comfortingly, "is that so?"   
  
"It's like... he sees through me," he whispered, "his eyes can look through my body and see my soul, and he sees how hollow I am. When I look at him, I want to shield my eyes, because he burns too bright for these eyes that are so used to dark and filth. When I touch him, I feel... new, but dirty... He's terrifying. I shouldn't see him anymore."   
  
Mila was quiet, and Viktor breathed slowly, his mind drifting away to images of Yuuri, smiling, laughing, gorgeous, angry, gentle, rough, graceful, beautiful...   
  
"But you still want to, don't you?"   
  
Viktor sighed, his eyes flickering open. He sat up and scrubbed a hand through his tangled hair. "That's the whole problem, isn't it?"   
  
"If you don't want to let him go, then don't," Mila told him. "Despite what we are, we all deserve happiness, Viktor."   
  
"Did you hear what I just told you? I said I'm scared. What does happiness got to do with this?"   
  
Mila's clear blue eyes met his, and Viktor looked away first.   
  
"I think you already know what you want to do," Mila said, and then stood as she finished her drink. "Don't drink too much. I don't want Lilia coming to grouse at me again."   
  
"I'm fine," Viktor said, and downed his drink again.   
  
He woke up with a pounding headache the next day, and Lilia coming in to nag at him, but he tuned it out and stared at his flowers at his balcony, and shivered when he felt Yuuri's breath against the back of his neck, his scent wafting around him.   
  
"Viktor," he said a laugh in his phantom voice, sending goosebumps skittering across Viktor's skin, "you're so silly." Viktor hunched into himself and covered his ears.

  
\------ 

"Yuuri," Yuuri's mother called him as he passed by her where she was seated on the wooden ledge in the main house, a cup of tea in her hands, her legs folded elegantly beneath her. "Come here."  
  
"Yes, Okaa-san," he replied, then sat beside her. They both looked up at the cherry blossom tree before them, green and rustling in the wind.   
  
"Do you have a person you like, Yuuri?"   
  
Yuuri blanched, internally panicking.   
  
"N-no, Okaa-san, what are you saying?"   
  
She turned to face him, her smile slightly teasing. "Yuuko did tell me that you were going out a lot after training."   
  
"That Yuuko," Yuuri muttered, shaking his head, "it's nothing."   
  
"Well, if you don't have anyone you like, your father and I have some ideas."   
  
"Eh?" Yuuri said, laughing uncomfortably. "I'm only 24—"   
  
"You're already 24," his mother chided, "it's time for you to find a nice girl and settle down—"   
  
"Ah, Okaa-san, I just forgot Nishigori asked me to run an errand for him! I have to go now. Please excuse me," Yuuri said quickly, standing up and nearly running away.   
  
"That boy," Hiroko sighed, but she sipped her tea and was unsurprised.   
  
\------   
  
Viktor choose a vivid red kimono with gold chrysanthemums, red blossom plums and Japanese cranes printed all over, paired with an inner layer of light yellow, and a black crepe-silk obi with more flower motifs tied into a big ribbon in front. He tugged the kimono down so it exposed his collarbones and shoulders and sat demurely when Otabek announced Yuuri's arrival. There was nothing he could do about the way his heart hammered with anticipation, but he relaxed his stance and adopted his usual smile.   
  
The man entered, dressed plainly but tastefully in another navy blue kimono, a similar coloured haori draped over his broad shoulders and a white scarf covering his neck. He was carrying a paper bag of something in his hands, which perfumed the air in sharp fragrance.   
  
Viktor remained seated and Yuuri settled opposite him.   
  
"Hello, Yuuri."   
  
"Good evening, Viktor," Yuuri said with a smile, as he unwound his scarf and placed it on the floor. His eyes moved over Viktor's neck and shoulders, and a wave of slow heat spread through Viktor's body. Yuuri looked away, his face pinking a little, and continued. "I brought some _mikans_ today. Do you want some?"   
  
"Only if you peel them for me," Viktor drawled, and Yuuri chuckled a little. He pulled one orange out from bag, and started peeling it. Viktor watched his clever, elegant fingers pull away the bright orange skin to reveal the soft, fiber-covered underneath, the citrusy scent permeating the cool air around them. Yuuri pulled apart a part of the orange and lifted it to Viktor's mouth, who opened his mouth to take it in. His lips brushed Yuuri's fingers, and immediately the air was charged with something more. There was the burst of tart-sweetness in his mouth, tangy and acidic. Their eyes met, and Viktor took Yuuri's fingers into his mouth and licked at the drop of juice that ran down his palm to his wrist. The sour-sweet taste of oranges warmed by Yuuri's skin sent Viktor's stomach churning hotly with desire, and he let his lips linger on Yuuri's wrist, where he could feel his pulse. As he pulled back, Yuuri leaned forward to press their lips together, slow but insistent, and Viktor fell back onto the tatami mats obligingly, widening his legs to accommodate Yuuri between them. Yuuri's slightly sticky hand touched his face, but he didn't mind as he sighed happily against Yuuri's warm mouth. The taste of oranges lingered between their lips, and the slightly sour edge made Viktor sigh and wonder about love. Something banal rose to his brain, and he toyed with it idly.   
  
"Viktor?" Yuuri muttered, as he pulled away, and Viktor luxuriated in the sound of his name falling from Yuuri's lips, and met Yuuri's tender eyes. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Viktor said, laying sprawled on the ground with Yuuri above him, his hand stretched behind him, "thou art more lovely and more temperate. [1]"   
  
Yuuri looked confused for a brief second, then his face cleared, and he laughed, pressing their juice-sticky lips together lightly.   
  
"Are you trying to seduce me with Shakespeare?"   
  
"Are you seduced?" Viktor countered, as they both sat up, their limbs tangled together. Yuuri's socked feet touched Viktor's calf, and his smile was light and amused.   
  
"Oh, always," Yuuri replied, and he drew Viktor into another kiss.   
  
Viktor dreamt of the taste of oranges, and summer, long after Yuuri left. 

  
\-----

He was thinking of Yuuri when another client roughly pushed up his garments and pulled his bottom-half onto his lap, his touch unwanted and rough and utterly boring. Viktor felt detached from it all, and let out a soft, fake moan as calloused fingers spread his thighs, and closed his eyes.   
  
Yuuri in his furisode, blushing fiercely, Yuuri's dark burning eyes, Yuuri's fiery, hot touch igniting something black and dangerous and thick inside him, Yuuri's boyish laughter, his awkwardness and shyness that still appeared at times, Yuuri's scent, something nostalgic and autumny and comforting, Yuuri, his lighthouse, safe-house, Yuuri, who could tear people apart, paradoxically tender and brutal at the same time, but was always, always gentle when Viktor wanted him to be...   
  
"Yuuri," Viktor breathed, desire stirred inside him.   
  
The movements stilled, and Viktor's eyes fluttered open.   
  
His client, dark-skinned with hungry, narrowed eyes, frowned at him, anger overtaking his face.   
  
_Oh damn_ , Viktor thought, and let a smile flicker over his face.   
  
"What is it, sir?"   
  
A blast of sharp pain rocketed across his face, and he let out a shocked gasp. The man pinned him down, his fingers biting into Viktor's skin, and Viktor felt terror that he forced down.   
  
"Who are you thinking about?" He growled, and Viktor tried smiling at him. He could taste blood where his teeth had cut into his cheek.   
  
"You misunderstand, sir," he said, eloquently, "it was a praise in my mother-tongue."   
  
"You fucking whore," the man snarled at him, "you lying bitch," anger clouding his face, and delivered another slap across his face.

 

Viktor took a deep breath, and then he raised his voice, calling, "Otabek."   
  
Otabek stepped in, assessed the situation, then sent the man crashing into the sliding doors. Viktor winced and sat up.   
  
" _Bychit_ [2]," Viktor snapped in Russian, in a rare display of crudeness, as he cradled his cheek as he sat up. " _Throw him out and bar him from coming back_ ."   
  
Otabek dragged the man out without another word after delivering another solid punch on his face to prevent him from shouting. Viktor grabbed the towels left by the futon to spit blood into it.   
  
" _Shit_ ," he muttered, tenderly prodding the cut on the inside of his cheek, still bleeding and the taste of iron through his mouth made him slightly nauseous.   
  
Lilia appeared at the opened sliding doors, narrowed her eyes at him, snapped at the ogling maids for cold water and medication, and bent down in front of him. She tilted his head up to inspect the blossoming bruise.   
  
"This looks terrible," she clicked her tongue, "you'll need more powder the next time you meet your clients."   
  
"He was a brute," Viktor said agitatedly, his face throbbing uncomfortably, "how could you let that sort of man in here?"   
  
"Don't tell me you didn't do anything?" Lilia asked, as the maids came in with the requested things and set it beside them. Lilia passed him a cool towel to press against his face, thankfully alleviating some of the pain.   
  
"Nothing much," Viktor muttered, "I didn't even do anything. He has a screw loose."   
  
"It's not beautiful to anger those who visit you, Vitya."   
  
"I didn't do anything," Viktor repeated, "he just hit me suddenly."   
  
"I'm sorry to say I don't believe you at all."   
  
"Whatever, Lilia."   
  
She gave him a long, long look, and crossed her arms across her chest. Viktor hated it that she probably knew what happened, and resented her. "I hope it wasn't because you said something careless in front of your precious customer."   
  
"I didn't say anything," Viktor said, pulling the towel away to put it into the cold water again, "stop insisting that I did."   
  
"If you did, then you're losing your touch, Viktor. Perhaps you're getting too old?"   
  
"Please," Viktor snorted, "the old one here is you, Lilia. Perhaps you should get your eyes checked."   
  
"Careful, Vitya," she said, unfazed, "if this happens again, I might just accidentally cancel Katsuki Yuuri's bookings."   
  
Viktor glared at her. "You wouldn't _dare_ ."   
  
"I can't have him distracting the top money-earner in _Tsubaki_ , can I?"   
  
"You're a witch," Viktor hurled at her, immediately defensive, and Lilia just clicked her tongue at him.   
  
"You better watch your tongue, Vitya," she warned, then left, and Viktor flopped onto the futon.   
  
He hated that he got bruises because of Yuuri. And he hated that the only person he wanted to complain about this to, and hold him, was also Yuuri. 

\------

  
Viktor's face was painted when he met Yuuri three days later. The powder whitened his already pale face further, and Yuuri's confusion was clear on his face when his eyes scored Viktor's face.   
  
"Am I not pretty today?" Viktor asked, pouting a little when Yuuri didn't say anything. The bruise didn't really hurt unless he probed it, but the cut in his cheek still hurt.   
  
"No, it's just..." Yuuri shook his head and reached for Viktor's cheek, thankfully, the uninjured side. He rubbed the powder and shook his head. "Can I wipe this off?"   
  
"You don't think I look pretty like this," Viktor huffed, and turned away, "I even put in more effort today, and you—"   
  
"No, I think you're very pretty always," Yuuri appeased him and kissed his mouth lightly. "But I rather see your natural skin."   
  
"Hmph," Viktor huffed and walked away, crossing his arms. Yuuri walked up to him and wound his arms around his waist.   
  
"Don't be mad," he said lightly. "But please, let me?"   
  
"No."   
  
"But why?"   
  
"I just don't want to," Viktor said, half-heartedly tugging Yuuri's arms away. "Lilia won't let me," he muttered, leaning into Yuuri's warmth.   
  
"What's the matter?" Yuuri asked, gently turning Viktor around, who didn't meet his eyes.   
  
"You'll laugh me," he pouted, and Yuuri ran his fingers across his cheekbones.   
  
"I won't," Yuuri promised, and his deep dark eyes were comforting.   
  
"Then fine," Viktor huffed, and Yuuri asked for some water. He drew Viktor to sit on the futon, and then very lightly wiped away the powder. When he touched the bruised spot, Viktor flinched. Yuuri's frown deepened, but his touch lightened as he slowly unearthed the purple bruise across Viktor's cheek.   
  
When their eyes met, Yuuri's eyes were terrifyingly murderous. Viktor wondered if it said a lot about him when that look got his breath short with want, and he smiled cheekily at Yuuri.   
  
"Who did this to you?"   
  
"Why, are you going to fight for my honour?" Viktor muttered, biting his lip to stop his smile from growing.   
  
Yuuri's eyes darkened further, and Viktor didn't need to hear his answer to know that he would.   
  
"Don't worry," Viktor said, snuggling close to Yuuri, and laying his non-bruised cheek against Yuuri's shoulder. He felt happiest in Yuuri's arms, and hummed under his breath, raising an arm to hug Yuuri.   
  
Yuuri pushed him away, his fingers lightly tracing the bruise on his cheek, then pressed his lips over the heated skin.   
  
"Is it ugly?" Viktor asked him, and Yuuri shook his head, the tension still not lost from his shoulders and the line of his lips.   
  
"You're always beautiful," Yuuri replied simply, "does it hurt?"   
  
"Not if you kiss it better."   
  
Yuuri tilted his face to the side and kissed him again, then pulled him closer, hugging him tightly. "How could anyone do this to you?"   
  
"Oh, more than you think," Viktor said flippantly, and Yuuri shot him a look that made Viktor want to smile again.   
  
"Want me to teach you some self-defense moves?"   
  
Viktor laughed. "I won't need them if you protect me," he said playfully, and wormed his way to sit on Yuuri's lap, walking his fingers across Yuuri's broad shoulders.   
  
"But I can't," Yuuri murmured, after a pause, and Viktor flicked his forehead.   
  
"Don't be silly. I was just joking; I don't need you to protect me. I have Otabek."   
  
Yuuri looked unsatisfied, but he pressed a hot hand against the small of Viktor's back and held him.   
  
"I wish I could," he whispered, and Viktor closed his eyes as he hitched his chin up Yuuri's shoulder. The words coursed through his blood hotly; this was where he should laugh at Yuuri and crush his heart and chase him away before Viktor could fall even more.   
  
Instead, however, Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri's broad back and gently placed his heart in Yuuri's hands. Like a fool or a madman.   
  
"Me too," he whispered back.   
  
Moonlight spilled opalescent from Viktor's balcony, and Viktor was madly, clumsily, hopelessly, audaciously, unbearably in love with Yuuri [3]. It was sort of love that only blossomed from frenzy or lunacy, marked with a fierceness, Viktor feared, that might destroy him.   
  
Still, as Yuuri tucked Viktor against his chest like a precious, precious treasure, Viktor couldn't find anything in him to protest.   


\--------  


Notes:

[1] the most trite but still beautiful of shakespeare’s sonnets, sonnet 18. have a modern version: shall i compare thee to a summer’s day? ‘cause you’re hot like one.

[2] _bychit_ :  from what i gathered, it means “to act like a bull” in russian, but if i’m wrong, feel free to let me know :)

[3] was that admission that hard to make, viktor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrong season for mikans, but who cares :')
> 
> thanks for reading, kudos and comments!! :)


	7. dark or unhappy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “put up your little arms  
> and i’ll give them all to you to hold.  
> every finger shall have its ring  
> and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy” little tree, e.e cummings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!!! so sorry about... the delay 
> 
> enjoy!

 

Viktor laid on top of Yuuri, both sated and naked, the silk blanket draped loosely around them. They could hear the revelry and drunken voices from the streets, but in Viktor’s rooms, the candlelight flickered softly, and they were caught up in each other’s infinite eyes.

“You told me about your mother before,” Yuuri muttered, as he played with the ends of Viktor’s hair. “Do you… miss her?” 

Viktor was quiet, unsure of how to answer. He sat up, the blanket sliding off his shoulders, then threw on his discarded inner robe carelessly and padded into his inner rooms. 

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, and sat up.

“Wait,” he said, as he dug through his cabinet. 

He returned a few brief moments, and Yuuri was clad in one of robes and sitting cross-legged on top of the futon. 

“Look,” Viktor said, showing Yuuri the ring sitting at the palm of his hand. It was a exquisite ring with a big, light blue diamond in a teardrop shape framed by two white diamonds, set in platinum, and it caught the candlelight and threw glimmers of colours onto the floor. 

“What is this?” Yuuri asked, peering at it closely, but afraid to touch. 

“It’s my mother’s ring,” Viktor told him, “isn’t it beautiful?” 

“Yes, extremely,” Yuuri muttered. “It looks like the colour of your eyes.” 

“Does it?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, “it’s a very pretty colour.” 

Viktor smiled a little, feeling the warmth of Yuuri’s words spread across his skin like a bout of fire. “I’m only showing it to you,” he said playfully, “because you’re my favourite."

“Am I?” Yuuri said, his mouth wavering into a smile, his face pinked. He pressed a clumsy kiss on Viktor’s mouth. “I’m glad.” 

Foolish man, Viktor thought, but it was fond. “Help me wear it,” he muttered against Yuuri’s lips, who blinked at him. 

“Oh no, but it’s so precious, I shouldn’t…” 

“It’s not like you’re doing anything weird,” Viktor said, plucking the ring to hold it between his thumb and index finger. “Please?” 

Yuuri cautiously took the ring over, then stared at it, and gripped Viktor’s hand. He stared at Viktor’s fingers, then looked up at him.

“Which finger should I put it on?” 

Viktor hid his grin. “The fourth one,” he said, and Yuuri nodded, completely clueless. 

Viktor won’t tell him what that means. It was a happy secret that he kept only for his own knowledge, and the memory of Yuuri gently pushing the ring up his finger kept him smiling indulgently through the next few days. [1]

\-----

Yuuri is thoughtful and quiet the next time they meet, and Viktor impatiently tugged him closer and kissed his mouth, but Yuuri soon pushed him away.

"Viktor," he murmured, "I don't feel like it today."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"Come sit," Yuuri said, patting the space between his legs as Viktor obliged, and Yuuri wound his arms around Viktor's waist and sighed into his hair.

"You are thinking about something."

"...yes."

"Want to tell me about it?"

Yuuri shook his head and turned Viktor's face towards him to kiss his mouth slowly, then leaned back. "I just want to - think."

"Hmm."                

Viktor turned his gaze to the windows. It was raining, dim and dark, the lanterns along the street red, like devil's eyes, sinister and swaying in the wind. He leaned against Yuuri's chest, comfortable in his arms, and thought.

"...really pouring down."

"The rain?" Yuuri murmured, continuing, to Viktor's surprise, his absent-minded remark.

Viktor nodded. He stood from Yuuri's arms and placed his palms up, feeling the rain hit his hands, marveling at the sensation.

"It feels good," Viktor said aloud, closing his eyes.

"Why not we just go out to feel it?"

Viktor blinked in surprise at Yuuri. "I can't..."

"You can," Yuuri smiled at him and then scooped him out. "Trust me, okay?" Yuuri stepped onto the window ledge.

"Yuuri, what are you-" Viktor clutched onto Yuuri's shirt as he peered down - the ground seemed dark and far and threatening, then he hid his face into Yuuri's neck. "We're going to fall, Yuuri - put me down."

"Trust me," Yuuri said again and then Viktor stifled his scream as he felt Yuuri jump, his fingers digging into Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri hit the ground on his feet silently, and then took off running. Viktor was put down a moment later, and he kept his hand fisted in Yuuri's shirt. Yuuri laughed softly, running his hand down Viktor's back. "What's wrong?"

"You can't just kidnap me like that," Viktor said, muffled. His knees were a little unsteady. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," Yuuri murmured. “But look."

They were standing in an overhang, and there was no one around them. Viktor had a sudden flash of memory - that day when Lilia had found him dying in an alley. It had been raining too, and Viktor had looked up to the skies, the rain dripping down into his eyes, washing away the smell of blood on his face and chilling his body. The sky had been a white space of emptiness, water icily dripping into his body, pelting at him sharply. Viktor thought he would die. [2] He felt the flash of panic, and breathed sharply.

“Viktor?”

He turned, and Yuuri was close, concerned, and Viktor felt the panic ebb away. He smiled.

“Yes?” 

Yuuri stepped out and tilted his head up - his figure blurred by the dark and the rain, his neck an elegant arch. His hair dripped rain, his clothes starting to stick to his body, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. The light from the crimson red lanterns along the empty street cast a lonely, mysterious, almost sinister glow around him, but Viktor felt safe. Yuuri looked like he belonged in the rain, like he belonged in the dark, between the shadows, and a piece of soul that Viktor wanted desperately to hide. As Viktor watched, Yuuri turned. He put his hand out, inviting.  

"Come here, Viktor."

"I'll get wet."

"That's the point."

Hesitating, Viktor stepped out, flinching a little at the cold, at the deserted, quiet streets, and then closed his eyes. Sound faded away. For a terrifying moment, he was transported back to that moment - that moment of certainty that he was going to die - but when he snapped open his eyes, breathing hard, Yuuri's eyes met his, steady, anchoring. Then, a laugh bubbled from Viktor's throat. He felt - washed, purified, the memory faraway now, and seemingly harmless. The droplets rained down onto him, gentle and therapeutic. He spread his arms and turned in a round.

"Are you going to dance?" Yuuri asked him, rain sliding down in rivulets down his face, his smile easy and bright. Viktor's very own sun, lightly shining through the dark. He put his hand out and Viktor took it, carefully turned a round.

"Do you know the waltz?" Viktor asked him, his mouth pulled into a relaxed smile.

"Wa-lt-z?"

"I'll teach you," Viktor smiled at him and moved his hands to the proper positions. "Just follow me."

Their hands slid wetly together, and it should be cold, but Viktor was warm, something hotly burning inside him, something urgent and dark. Yuuri, and their clothes brushing together as they turned in a round, the rain singing them their very own quiet melody, was glorious. Viktor made a trite wish for the rain never to stop. For in this moment in time, with no one watching them, Yuuri and he were two nobodies, two souls in a single body, and they were light and clean and new and pure and together.

When turning in another round Viktor's geta-sandal [3] broke. He yelped as his sock went into a puddle of water, and Yuuri caught him before he fell.

"Careful," he murmured, pulling Viktor against his chest. 

"My sandal," Viktor said, peering at his sandal in dismay. Yuuri squatted down and took hold of his slipper, wiping the water from his eyes. He took his geometrically-patterned blue handkerchief from his pocket and tore a strip out. He carefully tied the slipper string back, and fitted it to Viktor's feet, then stood.

"Is that okay?" He asked, and Viktor took a few steps and nodded, turning around and putting out his hand for Yuuri to take. Yuuri took his hand and drew him close to kiss, sliding his hand in his already wet hair and cupping the back of his head. Viktor wrapped his arms around his waist and smiled, licking into Yuuri's wet, warm mouth and chasing his lips as he pulled away.

"Let's go," Yuuri muttered, and tugged Viktor back to  _ Tsubaki _ .

They had to creep up into Viktor’s rooms, but Lilia was at the reception, smoking a pipe. She had blinked at them, her face a little pinched, as Yuuri bowed and muttered his apologies sheepishly, and Viktor just held his hand and waited until he was done with the trivial pleasantries before he dragged Yuuri back into his rooms.

“Lilia’s mad at me,” Yuuri said, as he pressed Viktor against the wall and kissed his mouth, taking away his breath and pinning his hands by his side, licking and biting down his neck. Their clothes are sticking to their skin, uncomfortably, and Yuuri slid Viktor's clothes off and licked the moisture off his shoulder.

“It’s fine, I don’t care.” 

“She might stop me from coming or something.” 

“I won’t let her.” 

“So you want to see me?” Yuuri smiled, leaving a mark on Viktor’s collarbone. Viktor moaned as he tugged impatiently at Yuuri’s clothes, but before he could go any further, Yuuri pulled away.

"I'll call for a bath for you," he said, as he nuzzled into the warm pulse of Viktor's neck. "You might get sick."

"You're just going to stop that?" Viktor gasped arching up into Yuuri's mouth, "I'm fine, go on."

"No, really," Yuuri mumbled, pressing his face against Viktor's damp skin. "Lilia will be even more mad at me if I let you get sick."

"I don't care," Viktor grumbled, then pulled Yuuri's shirt off and bit down his neck. "I'll be angry if you stopped."

"Demanding," Yuuri laughed, and he aligned their cocks together and took them both in his hand, making Viktor cry out. He rutted against Viktor, who raised a leg to wrap around his waist, his hand moving rhythmically, slickly. He kissed Viktor's ajar mouth and licked his nipples, and Viktor thrashed against him.

"Come with me," he gasped, a whine building in his throat. "Come, Yuuri - Yuuri!"

They spent over Yuuri's arms, sliding onto the ground as Viktor caught his breath. Yuuri wrapped his arm around Viktor's shoulders and took his breath back.

"Viktor," he said lowly, "don't sleep yet."

"Hmm," Viktor mumbled, his eyes fluttering slowly shut, he cuddled against Yuuri's chest.

"You always do this," Yuuri laughed softly, and he hoisted Viktor in his arms, not bothering how his hand is covered in cum. "You'll get a cold, really."

"I don't get colds."

"Right."

Yuuri waited for the bath to be drawn, pulling a blanket around Viktor to make sure he was warm, as Viktor dozed off against his chest. He placed Viktor into the steaming hot bath when it was done, and combed his hair out of the wet tangles. Viktor blinked sleepily and sighed in contentment, turning around in an invitation for a kiss.

"Won't you come tomorrow too?" He muttered slickly against Yuuri's lips.

"Silly Vicchan," he said affectionately, though a little regret tinted his tone, "I would come everyday if I could."

"Why don't you?"

"You wouldn't like that," Yuuri murmured back, and he hoisted Viktor out and towelled him dry. Viktor ignored the yukata that he tried to wrestle Viktor into, and curled against his still damp body.

"I'm still wet, Viktor, and you just got clean."

"Hmph."

Yuuri picked him up again, giving up on the yukata, and put him into the futon, and Viktor kept his eyes on Yuuri's as he went to bathe, half-lidded and sleepy. He opened his arms as Yuuri came back dry and clean, and hugged Yuuri close.

"Stay," he mumbled, drifting away into sleep, his body relaxed and his lips looser.

Yuuri ran his fingers down Vi.ktor's back and didn't reply.

\---------

Viktor's dream was strange and unsettling. There was something behind him chasing, something menacing, sinister, with red eyes, something that would capture him, but his legs had turned into sand and he could no longer run. He screamed, but he didn't have a voice, too, there were backs in front of him, that he knew was safety, but when they turned - his mother, his father - laughed and waved and left him there. And Yuuri was suddenly there, hoisting him up, but he was sand, crumbling into pieces, drifting into the wind, and when he tried to clutch at Yuuri, Yuuri was no longer there. He was walking away too, and Viktor cried out.

When he woke up, he was crying. He sat up, rustling the sheets, pressing his hands into his eyes. He thought he was alone, but there were soft hands pulling his hands away. When he looked up, Yuuri's eyes, warmer in the sun, were brown and comforting and terrifying.

"Viktor?" He murmured, and Viktor stared at him as his tears dripped down his face. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Viktor sniffled and drew in a careful breath. He dabbed at his eyes gently, and shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, trying to be convincing, "you haven't left?" Then he sneezed.

"I knew it," Yuuri sighed, a little fondly, and he handed Viktor a handkerchief. "I told my family I will be late today." He pulled Viktor to rest against his chest, warm and solid. "Unless you want me to go?"

"I suppose you could have breakfast before you go," Viktor said flippantly, then he sneezed again. "This is your fault," he huffed.

"You seemed to like it," Yuuri said gently, amusement strong in tone, and Viktor sneezed at him in retaliation. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Viktor stuck out his tongue, "don't fuss."

"Your eyes are all red," Yuuri ran his fingers over Viktor's eyes in a light caress.

Viktor pulled away, turning his face away. He picked up the bell and rang it.

"Breakfast," he said, "for two," and Otabek nodded from where he stood at the door, then slid it shut.

"I won't be able to come for the next three weeks," Yuuri said, a little too casually as Viktor turned back. Viktor froze, his dream coming back to him in full force. He forced his voice to be smooth.

"Why?"

"I... am going to Tokyo. Training."

"You are not a particularly good liar," Viktor said, still facing his doors.

"... I am not lying," Yuuri said quietly, "a general asked to meet me."

"And his daughter, perhaps?" When he looked back, Yuuri was looking back at him with open, melancholic eyes. "I am not wrong, then."

"I do have to be married."

"Married?" Viktor said, and he sneezed, and Yuuri reached up to put a haori around his shoulders.

"Come and sit," Yuuri led him down onto the floor. When he tried to put his arm around Viktor, Viktor moved away, and Yuuri ran his fingers through his hair.

"So you like women now," Viktor drawled. "That is surprising, seeing how often you come here."

"It's not that," Yuuri objected, "I have a duty-"

"A duty,” Viktor snorted, “is it your duty to marry someone you don’t even want to touch?”

"I can learn. With time, I'm sure."

"With time," Viktor scoffed, cruel and vicious now he was scared. His heart was loud in his ears. " _ With time _ . Do you even hear yourself? How ridiculous is this? When will you stop lying to yourself? You don't like women."

Yuuri's face darkened with anger and frustration. "I thought you would understand."

"Understand?" Viktor's head was thudding with pain, and he wanted to just sleep. "What am I supposed to understand?"

"About my obligations-"

"Oh. I see, you want me to say somethings to you, am I right? To reassure you? Oh, Yuuri-sama, it'll be  _ fine _ , of course it would, you would be able to be a good husband? Or what, maybe you'd like me to kneel at your feet and plead for you not to go like a third-rate whore?” He snapped, “what did you think I would say?"   

"Why are you so angry?" Yuuri asked, clearly trying to hold onto the reins of his temper.

"I'm not angry. I just think it is ridiculous that you insist on this farce; what, perhaps you would tell your new wife you enjoy the company of men and you prefer cocks over cunts-"

"Viktor," Yuuri said, his voice sharp.

"Perhaps you wouldn't even touch her-"

"Viktor," Yuuri said again, and he grabbed Viktor's wrist and pinned him onto the ground. Viktor smiled mockingly at him, curled and wide.

"Perhaps you would like to fuck me now?" Viktor said sultrily, "you are angry after all, because I am right. This is who you are, Yuuri, and  _ I  _ know it."

"Why not you confess?" Yuuri asked quietly, his eyes piercing.

"What should I confess?" Viktor spat back, "I've never lied-"

"That you are in love with me."

"In love?" Viktor echoed, forcing disbelief onto his face and into his voice. He hated how fake it sounded, which no doubt, Yuuri could hear as well. "In  _ love _ ?"

"Isn't this why you are so angry?"

Viktor gave a loud cackle, "in love," he laughed, and he shoved Yuuri away and sat up. "You are delusional."

"...If you told me not to go, I wouldn't."

"Oh, so this is a test?" Viktor scorned, rolling his eyes, he turned away from Yuuri. "What a tasteless one. You can go to Tokyo, Katsuki- _ sama _ , and bring back a lovely wife. I do not care."

Yuuri was quiet, and Viktor tried to blink away his headache, and the bitter taste of regret on his tongue.

"Then say it," Yuuri finally said, his voice low. "Look at me and say it and I will go and I will get married and not come back. Ever."

Viktor inhaled his breath carefully. He ignored how his chest had constricted with something like ache. He turned back towards Yuuri and schooled his face. "Say what?"

"Say you do not love me."

There was a gut-punch to Viktor's stomach, and his jaw clenched. His fingernails bit into his palm. He forced the words, bitter and sour-tasting from the back of his throat. He made himself look into Yuuri's eyes, expectant and wary, already guarding against the hurt.

"I do not love you," he said. "I will never love you." He caught the bright flash of anguish that darted across Yuuri's face, and his heart throbbed against his chest. He suddenly felt very sick, nauseous, and he fought to stay still, to not take the words back. They hung in the air like heavy, stifling fog, thickening the air with toxin and making it hard to breathe. Yuuri didn't look surprised, however, and he stood. He went and retrieved his jacket and brushed past the maid bringing up their breakfast. Viktor stared at the food placed in front of him, steaming porridge and grilled fish, and he shoved it away angrily.

"Go and give these to dogs," he snarled, and dropped onto his side, strength leaving him now the adrenaline passed. He drew a long, shuddery breath and pressed his hand against his chest. "I don't care," he repeated. "I don't care  _ at all _ ."

\------

"What did you do?" Lilia asked, tapping her feet onto the floor, her eyes narrowed at Viktor. "You're being a beast."

"I didn't  _ do  _ anything."

"This is about Katsuki Yuuri, isn't it."

"It's not."

"You’ll only get so agitated if it is something to do with him."

"I said it's  _ not _ ," Viktor snapped, and he pushed his hair back with a frustrated hand. "Go away, Lilia."

Her pale, piercing eyes surveyed him, like she could see everything. She could read it in the tense line of his shoulders, his haphazard hair, in the silence, in the lies he said. Viktor crossed his arms, resented her.

"I warned you. I told you he was different. I told you he was not like us, not like the rest of your clients. I told you it was not a game you should play. You did not listen. And now you're mopping in your own room and fiddling with the sandal he repaired for you like you didn't chase him away with your own hands like the cruel, selfish brat you are."

Viktor's hand tightened around the body of the geta, not wanting to let Lilia see that her words had hit home. He felt flayed, stripped down, and he was itching in his own skin.

" _ Shut up _ ," he said tightly, "you can't say that to me when I only learnt from you."

"Blame it on me if it makes you feel better, Vitya," she told him, as she turned away from his doors. "But you know yourself that you've chased away what mattered to you most."

"Shut  _ up _ ," Viktor said again, even if she already left, and he threw the sandal at the door, then his pillows, his books, and the cups. They landed, crashing disconsonant on the floor.  "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,  _ shut up _ !"

He sunk back to the ground, heaving, staring at the broken things and the mess he made. He clutched his heart and dug his fingers into his chest, as if he could soothe the ache that taken root there and refused to leave.

\--------

Yuuri did not come for the next month.

 

Nor the next.

\--------

"He isn't coming back, no matter how long you wait for him. I've filled in his slot with another customer."

Viktor didn’t reply. He let another man fuck him that night, entirely quiet, his mind miles away, circulating around Yuuri. He pulled up his clothes and went into his private room without a second word, and when Lilia came to yell at him, he just looked at her blankly. He felt numb, half-dead, felt like something had been ripped from him, and he didn't know what to do with it. He had amputated an arm himself, only to find that the sickness had sunk into his bones and taken root there, like vines that curled around his skin.

It rained again that night. Viktor stepped out onto the balcony and looked out onto the dark, wet streets. The rain intensified, drumming against the staves like a tattoo of a broken heart, and the wind howled. Viktor stepped out further and stuck his hands out, tilting his head up to feel the rain hit his face. Droplets slid down his face, his eyes falling shut. He thought about the day Yuuri brought him out, and, when his heart stabbed in his chest, he shoved the memory away and pressed his palms against his eyes.

"I don't care," he whispered to himself, "I don't care."

Alone, the words rang emptily, hollow. No matter how many times Viktor repeated the words, they refused to take on meaning; the more he said it, the more he felt their flimsiness, their insubstance. The rain beat down the roofs, and the streets are quiet, lonely. He did this to himself, but for once, Viktor regretted it fiercely. He was no longer himself, somehow Yuuri had got under his skin and refigured him, changed him, until Viktor became a person that he himself didn't know.

"I  _ hate you _ ," Viktor said to the rain, "I don't care about you. You can stay away for all you want or get married or whatever. I don't care. In fact, I'm happier this way."

Lying. Lying is the only way Viktor could grasp onto his own soul and still call it his own.

\------

 

notes:

[1] what a snake!!! (not entirely sure about this but) traditional Japanese weddings didn't feature a ring (from my research), using a ring to demarcate engagement/ marriage is a western import/thing.

[2] “What is this?” 

Viktor couldn’t move at all, exhaustion and hunger and despair clinging onto his bones, and he wondered if that was the end. 

“Hmm. He’s dying.” 

A face appeared front of him, painted but beautiful, with bright green eyes and a red paper umbrella hefted above her.

“I’m not dying,” Viktor replied, vaguely recognising that it was probably odd that they were conversing in Russian. “I’m just resting.” 

A hand tilted his face up and wiped away the blood trickling down his face, and Viktor blinked his tired, wet eyes at her. 

“Not very beautiful now,” she said, “but with some cleaning up…” 

She ordered two men to carry Viktor back, who passed out. 

When he woke up, he was clean and he was wearing new clothes. A woman came in and looked at him, looking at his hair and his eyes and his body, and Viktor shoved her away. 

“What is this?” He snapped at her. “Where is this? Who are you?” 

She levelled a piercing gaze at him. “I’m Lilia Baranovskaya and this is  _ Tsubaki _ . Will you rather work for me, or die on the streets?” 

It was obvious which Viktor would choose.

[3] traditional Japanese shoes that resemble sandals or clog. For Viktor, whose kimonos are exorbitant, he would wear the koma-geta, which elevates him so the bottom of his hems don’t touch the ground and get dirty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops 
> 
> hopefully the next chapter will be up asap as well... like in 1 month   
> idk don't trust me i dont even trust myself
> 
> have a great day and thank you for reading!


	8. honeyed heaviness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever?” - mary oliver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter!! merry belated christmas and happy new year :')

 

Then, on the last week of the month, when people started dressing warmer and the blankets were no longer warm enough, Lilia came into Viktor’s room.

"Vitya, get up."

"What is it?" Viktor said, restless. He was lying across his own futon, his hand pressed against his eyes. He didn't want to do anything.

"There is someone here to see you."

"I didn't know I had a customer today."

"Not a customer," Lilia said, her pale eyes piercing, "it is Katsuki Yuuri's personal attendant."

Viktor curled his lip, intent on ignoring how his heart thudded inside him in sudden hope. "Why would she meet with me?"

"I don't know. Get dressed and come out immediately."

Viktor pulled on a beautiful robe and twisted his hair into a braid, rubbing his lips with a little balm before going to meet the lady.

She stared at him openly, and Viktor waited until the scrutiny was over.

"Vicchan?"

Viktor blinked at her in shock. "What?”

"Ah, sorry," she said, blushing, "when Yuuri told me your name, I just..."

Viktor shook his head. That wasn’t the most important thing right now. "What can I do for you today?"

"I am Yuuko," she said, with a pretty smile, "I am Yuuri's childhood friend and personal attendant. I came because of this letter."

"For me?"

"No. It is a letter for the Natsume family."

"What has this got to do me?"

"It seems that Yuuri is accepting the marriage proposal."

Viktor stiffened, his jaw clenching. "And?"

She looked at him with bright, knowing eyes. "Do you not wish to stop him?"

"Katsuki-sama has nothing to do with me-"

"He put off accepting the proposal for so long," she said softly, "I am sure you had something to do with it."

"I never asked him to not accept, if that was you meant."

"No, I just meant that he didn't want to accept it because of you."

"What did he tell you?"

"That he met a beautiful man."

"..."

"That he wanted to be with him."

"..."

"Did something happen?"

Viktor swallowed around his lump in his throat. His eyes prickled, and he willed the feeling away. "What do you want me to do?"

"Perhaps you can persuade Yuuri."

"He doesn't want to listen to me," Viktor said quietly, "I... have upset him."

"Upset is an understatement," she said, and Viktor flinched.

"He is furious, then?"

She shook her head. "He lies awake at night and does not eat. He does nothing but train. If anything, he seems intent on his own destruction."

" _ That stupid man _ ," Viktor murmured to himself in Russian, then he looked up at her. "Why don't you do something? Don't you care for him?"

"That is precisely the reason why I am here."

"You think I can do something?"

"Yes. I believe he will be more receptive to you. Our Yuuri is very soft-hearted. But stubborn."

"What do you want me to do? Write a letter?"

"I think it will be best if he met you."

"Where? How?"

"In our house," she said, entirely serious.

"But-"

"Unless you are busy, we can go now."

"I can't go out now," Viktor shook his head, "at night. I will meet you at the junction."

"Then I will be waiting for you." She smiled at him again, and rose to her feet. Viktor stopped her.

"...why are you going so far for him?" He asked, "it would make sense for him to get married and settle down and live a respectable life. He decided not to see me anymore, and that would be the end of it. Why?"

"Because I have not seen Yuuri so happy before you," Yuuko said with a smile. "I want to protect his happiness, which is you, Vicchan. Doesn't Yuuri deserve to be with someone he loves?"  

\-------

Viktor reached Yuuko, a dark figure at the mouth of the road. He had crept out of  _ Tsubaki  _ with Otabek and Yuri's help, and he was dressed in a plain yukata. He held his mother's ring tight in his fist - it gave him strength, reminded him of comfort, of the promise Yuuri didn’t know about but one Viktor made him promise anyway. Yuuko greeted him and started the way to Yuuri's house, as Viktor tried not to let anxiousness swallow him. He peered into the expansive old-style Japanese house, gaping at the size - there was a cherry-blossom tree to the side, withering, and the house was low and squat. Yuuko led him further down, towards the back.

Yuuri is sitting on the ledge, his legs crossed in a lotus position. His head was tilted upwards, watching the stars, his yukata white with blue swirls around his waist and hems, lightening up to the white in a pale wash of blue, and haori a plain, geometric- patterned blue. Yuuko pointed, declined to go with him, just standing where she was to give them alone time.

Viktor chased away his anxiety and stepped towards him.

"The moon is beautiful tonight," he started, and Yuuri turned his head absently. Viktor forced down his anxiety and yearning.  _ How could I think of letting him go like that _ , he thought, his longing surging in him to touch and to hold.

Yuuri's eyes widened, and he stared at Viktor for a moment, his face slack with shock and want. Viktor took a step towards him, and said his name again, hope rising in his chest. With that, Yuuri’s face twisted and he looked away.

"Are you an apparition sent to torture me?" He asked tightly, shutting his eyes.

"It's me," Viktor said, going even closer and reaching for his hand. Yuuri pulled his hand away sharply.

"Then what are you doing here?" He asked, his hands curling into fists beside him. "You shouldn't be able to come in - what-"

"Yuuko let me in. She said we should talk."

"Tell Yuuko not to meddle," Yuuri said shortly. "And you can go back now. We have nothing to talk about."

"I heard you were getting married," Viktor said, a little desperately. It wasn't turning out the way he wanted it to - Yuuri wasn't running into his arms and hugging him and saying that he would go back to Viktor.

Yuuri stiffened. He stood abruptly and turned away from Viktor, stepping towards his room, and Viktor reached out to grab his sleeve. "Talk to me," he said, "please."

"If you are coming to report your congratulations, then please do so by letter," he nearly snarled, "you didn't have to trouble yourself."

"I'm not doing that-"

"But  _ I'm  _ doing what I promised, so you should be happy."

"But I'm  _ not _ ," Viktor cried, "I'm not, and I don't want you to be married- I really didn't mean it, Yuuri-"

"I don't care if you mean it or not," Yuuri said, his voice tight and straining, "this...dalliance is over. Go back now."

"I don't want it to be over-"

"Because I am kinder? Easier?" Yuuri asked, his voice so low only Viktor could hear, his hands clenched at the door, "Because there is merit with me? Because I let you fuck me?"

"It's  _ not that _ ," Viktor said lowly, "you know it's not, you know-"

"Then what is it?" Yuuri asked, finally turning around, his eyes shuttered, his face blank, only the edge of frustration and anger marring his brow. "Tell me, then."

Viktor swallowed around his tightened throat. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords decided to give up on him now. He just stared at Yuuri, whose face twisted again. He turned away again, and Viktor grabbed his hand.

"Come back."

"Yuuko," Yuuri said, raising his voice. Yuuko stepped out from the shadows her face worried. "I am tired. Please escort - him - out. And please, don't bring strangers back anymore." He stepped into his room and let the doors shut before Viktor could follow him in. He slid to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, trying to breathe through his fog of pain. Viktor was still standing outside, unwilling to leave.

"Yuuri," he begged, "I still have things I have to say-"

"Yuuri, why don't you just listen to him-"

"Not you too," Yuuri nearly hissed, "get out.  _ Now. _ "

"Viktor," Yuuko sighed gently, touching his sleeve, "I am afraid Yuuri won't listen today. And the servants are starting to notice. We should leave." He let Yuuko pull him out, not even bothering to hide his hair.  

Viktor stood outside the house, his eyes pressed shut as he held back the tears. "I don't know why," he said faintly, his eyes pressed shut, "that really hurt."

Yuuko gently squeezed his shoulder as Viktor took shivery breaths. "I should go," he said finally. "Thank you, Yuuko."

"Thank you for coming. I am sure Yuuri will come around."

"What if he doesn't?" Viktor asked, his voice shaky.

"Then there is nothing either of us can do."

"Will you help me?" Viktor implored, turning his eyes to her, a little wet with held-back tears. "Will you talk to him for me?"

"Yuuri is extremely stubborn," Yuuko said gently, "it is difficult to move him, once he has made up his mind. But I know Yuuri, Vicchan. He likes you very much. I am sure he will come around."

Viktor took her hand and placed his mother’s ring into her palm. "Please," he whispered. "If... in the end, he still doesn't want to see me, will you pass this to him?"

"What is it?"

"It is something very important to me. He would know."

With a forced smile, Viktor made his way back to  _ Tsubaki _ . He ignored the people calling out to him, making a beeline for his rooms. He threw himself on his laid out futon, and felt the tears burn his eyes. 

“Oi, stupid Viktor—!” 

Viktor sat up, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “What?” He said, not turning around. 

“You can’t just come back through the front door like that—” Yuri screamed at him, and stomped in, but he stopped when he saw Viktor’s face. 

“Go away,” Viktor said, turning his face away from Yuri. 

“What happened?” He demanded, because Yuri never listened to Viktor and was a busybody.

“Nothing. Go away.”

“Why did you go out and come back looking like someone had died?”

“I  _ said go away _ ,” Viktor snapped, and he pressed his fingers to his eyes and hunched into himself. Yuri wavered, then hesitatingly left.

Viktor wondered why his heart hurt so much. He knew he shouldn’t hope for so much; Yuuri had given him his heart and he pinched it to death, and threw it at his feet and laughed scornfully. But his own heart felt like it had shrivelled up in his chest and was forcing itself to beat to keep himself alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those who have been reading this fic: thank you <3


End file.
